Down the Rabbit Hole
by Olive Hue
Summary: Rhodes and Bridges are back in a modern version of 'The Dying Detective'. Can Bridges, already dealing with her feelings for Rhodes, find the reason for his sudden illness? Update: COMPLETE
1. Nadia in Wonderland

A/N: All right, I couldn't wait to start the next Rhodes-Bridges story. I'm just too impatient! After all, I have plenty of time to write that other dealie I've been planning. All righty, to all those who are new to my works, I am Wakizashi and I write mystery fanfictions based on the novels and short stories about Sir Arthur Conan Doyle's famous detective, Sherlock Holmes. As a modern Watson I have created one Nadia Bridges to chronicle the stories: a young massage therapist from Olympia, Washington with a cynical streak in her. In place of the Great Detective™ himself, may I present to you Ethan Nicholas Rhodes, a dashing young sleuth with a Southern accent and an unwillingness to overcome his tragic past. The first story in the series was entitled 'A Perfect World', and it was based on the first Sherlock Holmes story, 'A Study in Scarlet'. With me so far?  
  
Okay, well, this latest story is once again a re-write of Conan Doyle's work; this time a modern version of 'The Dying Detective'. It is set a little over two years after the last events in the first story, and by this time Nadia is having a hard time suppressing romantic feelings for her partner and now closest friend. And for everyone who read my first story and for some reason actually liked Special Agent Edward Solomon, he's back, too. So let's begin, shall we?  
  
Disclaimer: Though all the characters technically belong to me, the person responsible for the whole plot in the first place is Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, whom we would be lost without.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
Down the Rabbit Hole  
  
a modern Sherlock Holmes fanfiction  
  
by Wakizashi  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
Chapter One: Nadia in Wonderland  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
This really didn't make sense, I had to admit. It was eight o'clock at night, far past normal business hours at the massage clinic where I worked, and here I was entering appointments into the computer at the front desk. Um, hello, I wasn't the secretary around here! This was Stephanie's job! What was I doing here so late, and why would I be filling in for someone I didn't really know? Where in heaven's name was that girl?  
  
I sighed in defeat. What did it matter, anyway? If I wasn't working, I would probably be off somewhere with my dear, insufferable friend Ethan Rhodes - most likely reading the newspapers for any interesting crimes, or just lounging around watching TV. Aside from solving cases, we really didn't do that much, now that I thought about it.  
  
My mind drifting once again, I looked outside the front windows of the waiting room. It was dark, but there were still people walking briskly up and down the street, even in the freezing weather. It was amazing, how long people waited to get their Christmas shopping done. Luckily for me, I had fulfilled that duty weeks in advance. All I had to worry about was if my loved ones liked the presents I had gotten for them.  
  
Somehow, I knew Rhodes would like his.  
  
The phone on the receptionist's desk suddenly rang, making me jump. Why would anyone call here so late? Our doors closed at five. How could anyone know I was there? I thought of all the people I had had a hand in locking away over the past two years. One of them couldn't have tracked me down, could they?  
  
Warily, I picked up the handset and held it to my ear. "Bay Area Massage Clinic, how can I help you?" I said, straining to keep my voice neutral.  
  
A soft, raspy voice on the other end spoke. "What are you doing?" it asked.  
  
My hackles rose instantly. "Who is this?" I demanded.  
  
"Oh, you know. Not anyone special." The voice was so soft and indistinct, I couldn't even tell if it was male or female. Something insidious about it made me suspect it was a man.  
  
"You know, I've been watching you, Nadia," the voice continued. "I must say, you're a very beautiful woman. And your voice is just as pleasing to the senses." My heart leapt into my throat at this. He knew my name? How long had he been watching me? *Oh God, Rhodes, where are you when I need you?* I thought frantically.  
  
"Who are you?" I asked, fighting the urge to panic. It wasn't working. "What do you want from me?"  
  
"I'm coming to you, Nadia. I'm coming right now." I choked back a sob of terror, my eyes desperately scanning the windows. But the door to the waiting room was solid wood, and anyone could be behind it. "Don't go anywhere, Nadia. Just stay right there."  
  
To my horror, the knob moved. Oh God, he really was out there. It was an old office, and the lock had never been changed. It would only be a matter of minutes, even less that a minute, for a reasonably skilled person to pick it. I dropped the phone and backed against the wall. There were no other exits, there would be nothing stopping him from getting to me. I was trapped.  
  
The doorknob jiggled again, and this time it turned. This was it. This was the end of me. The door opened, creaking on its old hinges...  
  
...and Ethan Rhodes stood, a wicked grin on his face and a cell phone in his hand.  
  
For a moment I stared at him, my mouth open, uncomprehending. Then all at once it dawned on me. "OHHHHH, I'M GOING TO KILL YOU!!" I shouted angrily, clenching my fists so hard my fingernails dug into my palms.  
  
Rhodes chuckled heartily, obviously pleased with his prank. "Forgive me, Bridges," he said in his honeyed Southern drawl. "I called your apartment, and you weren't there, so I assumed you were working late." He slipped his cell phone into an inner pocket of his leather coat and grinned. Wait a minute, did he even own a leather coat? "I just couldn't resist."  
  
Still trying to calm my pounding heart, I glared at him as hard as I could. I was really trying not to seize the lamp on the desk and throw it at him. "Rhodes, you scared the hell out of me!" I said furiously, my hand over my chest.  
  
With smooth, economic movements, Rhodes shed his coat and scarf, hanging them on the coat rack by the door. Despite my anger and residual fear, I couldn't help but notice that he was wearing a gray heather T-shirt that was so tight it could have been painted on.  
  
Annoyed at myself for appreciating my partner's narrow but muscular torso when I should have been enraged, I turned heatedly away from him and resumed my work at the computer. Rhodes crossed the little waiting room and leaned against the desk, pushing his shaggy black hair behind his ear. "Come now, Bridges, it was just a joke," he said mildly.  
  
My jaw tightened, and I continued typing.  
  
Rhodes waited for a moment, then sighed. "The silent treatment now, is it?"  
  
I didn't answer. The clacking sound of the keys filled the room.  
  
And then Rhodes did exactly what I didn't want him to do. Pushing himself off the desk, he came around to the other side and rested his hand on my shoulder. I stiffened, but didn't shake it off. "I'm sorry if I frightened you, Bridges," he said gently. "Please don't be angry with me."  
  
Now it was my turn to sigh. The dork, how could I ever stay angry at him? "Yes, fine, I forgive you," I said resignedly, swiveling around in my chair to face him. "Just don't ever do that again, you understand me? You really scared me." My voice, to my embarrassment, trembled a bit.  
  
Rhodes caught my distress at the same time I did, and he pulled me out of my chair and straight into his arms. "I'm sorry," he repeated, murmuring into my hair. "If I had known it would make you so upset, I wouldn't have done it."  
  
"It's okay," I replied, blushing as he drew me closer against his hard chest. I hoped no one outside was watching.  
  
He drew away slightly, just enough to gaze into my face. His own wore an expression I had never seen before, and my heart began to thud against my ribcage again, and not because of fear.  
  
"You know, Bridges," he said in a low, husky voice. "It's only a matter of time."  
  
I swallowed as his long white hand came up to stroke the side of my face. "Before what?" I asked nervously, my cheeks burning.  
  
In response the hand reached around behind my head, pulled the clasp out of my hair, and tossed it carelessly aside. "When a man and a woman have been such close friends as long as we have," he continued, his fingers now threading themselves seductively through my hair. Rhodes was actually being seductive. "It's only a matter of time... before they become something more."  
  
I couldn't speak; couldn't even think of anything to say if I *could* speak. There was no way this was happening. Rhodes and I were friends. Sure, sometimes I thought about what would happen if we took our relationship just one step farther. But it just couldn't happen. It would change everything.  
  
Rhodes had to know where it would end. "Um," I said hesitantly, raising my hand to illustrate my point. "I don't know--"  
  
My sentence was quickly cut off when he grabbed my hand in his free one. "You don't know what?" he breathed, his green gaze staring at me, *into* me.  
  
Suddenly I forgot where I was going with this.  
  
Rhodes' face drew closer to mine, taking advantage of my hesitation. "Yes?" he whispered, his eyes never leaving mine. Those beautiful, endless green eyes, darkened with passion, willing me to close the inches between us. 'Give in, Bridges, give in,' they called to me.  
  
I released the breath I had been holding and shook my head minutely. "I forget," I said.  
  
And then Rhodes' mouth was on mine, his gentle, searching lips exploring every curve of mine. His hands, too, wandered lazily over me, as if memorizing the shape of my body. I gasped involuntarily as I felt his fingers graze my belly, and he took the opportunity to push his tongue into my open mouth.  
  
Heat spread like a forest fire from every inch of my skin that was in contact with his. So lightheaded I felt like I was going to pass out, I wrapped my arms around him for support, my own fingers burying themselves in his soft black hair. Rhodes pulled me closer, impossibly close, and when I heard a low moan, it took me a while to figure out it was my own.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
I sat up in bed, my back as rigid as a two-by-four, my face damp with sweat. Looking around, I realized I was in my own darkened room, dozens of blocks away from the massage clinic. I looked at the digital clock on my bedside table: 3:26 in the morning. Breathing hard, I drew my knees up to my chest and wrapped my arms around them, trying to stop the pounding of my heart in my ears. Finally, when my pulse slowed, I lifted my head from my arms.  
  
"That's the third time this week!!" I shouted at the walls of my empty room.  
  
This was really getting to be annoying. My first dream about Rhodes had started differently, but in essence, had ended with pretty much the same results - that is, my best friend and I sucking the lips off each other. I had assumed it had been a fluke; that the dream didn't mean anything. But then, two nights later, it happened again. And now, a third time. In every instance, I woke up gasping for air.  
  
I heard somewhere that recurring dreams were by far the most dangerous. I couldn't remember where I had heard that, but I was inclined to agree. Because after every dream, I found myself wishing that it had been real.  
  
Which was ridiculous, of course. The very idea of Rhodes and I together, like *that*, was too weird to imagine. And yet my subconscious clearly didn't think so. While I was awake, Rhodes was my partner and closest friend, the man I had bared my soul to, and likewise with him. But when I fell asleep, he became an object of overwhelming desire.  
  
Why *was* that?  
  
It was true that Rhodes was gorgeous; any woman could see that. He was over six feet tall, and his narrow frame made it seem as if he was even taller. His mop of shaggy black hair was a little past his ears, and somehow contrasted perfectly with his pale skin. And his eyes... God. His eyes were a breathtaking shade of green, somewhere between emerald and jade. All of my female friends, both in Olympia and here in San Francisco, thought he was stunning. Or as my friend Alma Dominguez once said, "hotness in an expensive suit."  
  
But Rhodes' admirable qualities didn't end with his good looks. He was charming, well-bred, and unfailingly polite; that is, when he wasn't being incorrigible on purpose. Though he could be a little melancholy at times - a result of his heartwrenching past - he still had a quiet streak of humor that took me by surprise. And no one could accuse him of not being loyal. He was the truest friend I had ever had.  
  
I rolled over onto my side with a groan. I had to face facts: the only reason why I wasn't hopelessly in love with Rhodes was *because* he was my friend.  
  
Yes, I knew it was ironic, but thank you for pointing it out. If Rhodes had asked me to dinner that first day we met at the coffee house I used to work, instead of just giving me his order, we would probably be married or something by now. But I had become the young detective's partner instead, working with him on a murder case which, by another ironic twist, involved my own massage instructor. The threads had all come together, and we were on the verge of catching the murderer in our nets when he unexpectedly cornered us.  
  
And then, in a moment of either madness or devotion, Rhodes had risked his life for me and took a bullet intended for my own chest. It was the single most selfless act I had ever witnessed.  
  
Needless to say, he survived, and the killer was locked away for life. But I would never forget what he had done for me, and ever since then, I occasionally experienced sudden, unexpected little stabs of affection for him at the strangest times - when a positive turn of events in a case would make him smile in excitement, or when he would sit curled up on his futon couch and pluck at his guitar. Sometimes just watching him stare thoughtfully out into space, his chin in his hand, filled my stomach with butterflies.  
  
Okay, so I admit it: a lot of things about Rhodes gave me a thrill. But even if I was a tiny bit attracted to him, I could never tell him. That was unthinkable. He would absolutely freak out, withdraw back into the shell I had been trying so hard to pull him out of, and never look at me the same way again. To Rhodes, I was just his friend. His *best* friend, yes, but nothing more.  
  
The jerk. Why did he have to be so irresistible?  
  
I sighed and closed my eyes, trying to fall asleep again - even if it did mean I would fall back into that crazy wonderland where nothing made sense and where Rhodes couldn't get enough of me. I almost didn't want to see him tomorrow, because it would remind me of... of what we had done in my dreams. But I knew I would see him. I always saw him.  
  
Only two days until Christmas. Maybe I shouldn't have been so hasty about staying home this year.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
When I woke up the phone was ringing. I reached over groggily, almost knocking over my clock radio, and grabbed the handset off the bedside table. "'Lo?" I mumbled sleepily.  
  
"Bridges, what are you doing today?"  
  
I suppressed a groan. It was Rhodes, of course, wanting to hang out. If I saw him today, I couldn't guarantee that I wouldn't either kick him in the shins or kiss him on the mouth.  
  
Passing a hand over my face, I looked at the clock. "It's seven-thirty in the morning, Rhodes," I said, blinking my eyes blearily. "You know this is my first day off. Call me back when I'm fully awake." With that I moved to hang up the phone.  
  
"No no, wait, there's something I have to tell you!"  
  
I brought the phone back to my ear in an instant. Rhodes had something he needed to tell me? I spoke calmly, trying not to get my hopes up. "What is it?" I asked. "Is something wrong?"  
  
"Nothing's wrong, Bridges. Nothing at all. But I would prefer to tell you in person." His voice sounded charged with nervous emotion. "Will you meet me at the Boule des Nerfs in half an hour?"  
  
My heart gave another leap. He wanted to meet me at the coffee shop where I used to work; the place where we had first met. That had to be significant. "Sure," I replied, keeping my voice far more nonchalant than I felt. "Half an hour. I'll be there." I replaced the phone on its hook and rose from my bed. If Rhodes had something that he could only tell me in person, it must be important. Was he going to tell me that he needed me, that he couldn't stop thinking about me, and that he wanted us to be together the way we should have been this whole time?  
  
*Oh please,* I thought to myself. How unlikely was that? And yet, as I showered and threw on my clothes, I couldn't help but dwell on the infinite possibilities.  
  
In a relatively short time, I was done getting ready and fully prepared to meet Rhodes. I stepped out of my apartment, bolting the door behind me, and set off toward Fisherman's Wharf, which was only a small number of blocks away. The air was so cold I could see my breath, and I pulled my wool coat tighter around my neck. Despite the time of day, there were many cars in the streets, still taking care of their holiday shopping. I checked my watch and quickened my pace.  
  
Before long the smell of fresh coffee mingled with the less pleasant perfume of fresh fish. I crossed the intersection and arrived outide the faddish coffee house, feeling the blissful warmth envelope me as I stepped through the door. My eyes quickly scanned the room, and I smiled as I saw the tall, lanky form of my partner, sitting at the same corner table he had been slouching at the first time I had taken his order.  
  
As I drew closer, he rose, and the smile froze on my face. Standing beside him was a beautiful young woman with long brown hair, a golden tan, and exotic blue eyes. She was holding Rhodes' hand.  
  
"Ah, Bridges, you're right on time," he said as I approached them. "I'd like you to meet Gislaine LeFavre. She's my new girlfriend."  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
*dramatic music* Wow, that must be the meanest plot twist I've ever written. Well, you guys wanted angst and romantic tension, so here it is! How did you like the dream? Did you want to throw things at me when Bridges woke up? I know, I'm sorry. But hey, now you know why it's rated PG-13. Don't worry, the next chapter will be up soon. In the meantime, leave me a review if you're not *too* furious with me. Ciao for now!  
  
Wakizashi  
  
tricksparrow@hotmail.com 


	2. The Pool of Tears

A/N: I'm back! Did you miss me?  
  
Crowd: NO!! Get on with the story!!!  
  
My, aren't we impatient today? All right, I suppose I deserve it. I'm truly sorry about the cliffhanger, but it's how the story goes. You guys wanted angst, so you're getting it by the barrelful! But don't worry, there will also be plenty of romance, so don't kill me just yet. Before I start, I'd like to respond to a few of your reviews.  
  
Settiai: Don't think you can hide your murderous intentions from me! But I forgive you; what I did *was* rather cruel. And hey, I'm on your Author Alert? Wow, I'm flattered! I also-- okay, okay, I'm shooing! Be patient!  
  
The Name Changer: Yes, yes, it's been established that I'm torturing you all... But do you think I'd make Rhodes end up with Gislaine? I'm not that mean! Oh, and can I have some of your candy?  
  
that girl: Oh no! Don't have a seizure! I don't know you well enough to hold your tongue!  
  
eechan: *gasps* HOLY my goodness, Fu-chan, I didn't know you could be so bloodthirsty! Or maybe I did, and I just willed myself to forget. But don't kill Gislaine! She may totally suck, but she's an integral part of the story. You can kill her after it's finished, okay?  
  
March Hare: If you really want to know, I had the whole dream sequence written before I even *remembered* there was a scene like that in BST! When I realized it, I was like, "Oh, whoops!!" But then I figured, meh, it's not exactly the same. And plus you used the whole Jezebel thing from my Holmes story, and it didn't bother me. So I was hoping you'd feel the same way... hahah? Oh, and don't be mad at Pendergast just because he rocks. I may be totally obsessed with him, but this story takes top priority. And by the way, I thought you'd like the title. Its relation to your pen name was completely unintentional, because it has more to do with Alice, Rhodes' sister, but I'm glad you approve!  
  
Jezrael the Jealous: I'm glad you like my Southern detective, and I was just waiting for someone to tell me that the differences bettween Rhodes and Holmes were a good thing. So thank you! Oh, and I'm glad you figured out it was a dream. There were a few subtle hints that made it apparent.  
  
Estriel: Your two personas no longer have any reason to argue. Although I can't make any guarantees that my latest chapter will make you even angrier. Only one way to find out!  
  
All righty! Let's move on with chapter two!  
  
Disclaimer: Rhodes and Bridges, along with any minor characters, such as Gislaine LeFavre, Edward Solomon, Alma Dominguez, and Douglas Bridges, are of my own creation. The original plot, however, belongs to Conan Doyle.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
Down the Rabbit Hole  
  
a modern Sherlock Holmes fanfiction  
  
by Wakizashi  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
Chapter Two: The Pool of Tears  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
I felt like such an idiot.  
  
How naïve of me to think that Rhodes would ever feel the same way about me! Why had I even gotten my hopes up? He didn't care about me *that* way. I was just his buddy; that chick that the guys love to be around, but they would never even think of dating her. That's who I was. Rhodes' gal pal.  
  
I knew then that I could never tell him how I felt. Not only would it dash all hopes of a relationship, but it would effectively destroy our friendship as well. There was nothing I could do.  
  
With a supreme effort, I somehow managed to muster a smile at Gislaine LeFavre, the beautiful woman standing next to Rhodes. *My* Rhodes. "It's nice to meet you, Gislaine," I said weakly.  
  
She returned my smile with a dazzling one of her own. "Please, my friends call me Laney," she replied in an engaging French accent.  
  
Well, I could have called her a lot of things...  
  
"You know, Ethan talks about you all the time," Laney remarked with a grin toward Rhodes. I felt like slapping it off her. "How sweet, and funny, and smart you are. All the time, he mentions you!"  
  
*If I'm so great, why's he with you?* I thought bitterly. Casting an acidic glance at Rhodes, I simply said, "I wish I could say the same about you."  
  
Laney raised her perfect eyebrows, taking in this last statement, but I continued before either of the happy couple could interject. "So," I said casually, my gaze directed at Rhodes, "how did you two meet? How long have you been... seeing each other?" Dropping my purse on the floor, I planted myself in a chair, resting my elbows on the surface of the table with false enthusiasm. "Tell me everything."  
  
Following my lead, the two took their seats once again. "Well, let me see," said Laney, tapping her chin thoughtfully with a manicured fingernail. Hey, I could have a manicure if I wanted. It would just be a lot harder to button my jeans. Plus I would probably injure my clients. "I would have to say that we first met three years ago, but we did not know each other very well back then. And of course, we met in a very unromantic place." She laughed, a high, bell-like laugh that men always swoon over. "Can you believe it? We met in a court-room!"  
  
Court-room? Yeah, I could agree with her on that. "Why were you in court?" I asked, frowning. "Was someone on trial?" *You?* I added mentally.  
  
Laney nodded sadly. "Oui, my father... He was not a good man." She looked up at Rhodes with big, sad puppy-dog eyes. He patted her hand sympathetically. "Ethan was the one who put him in prison. But I was not mad at him. I was just happy that my father could not commit any more crimes."  
  
I nodded absently, checking my watch. The streetcar would be passing by in about two minutes. I wondered if I had enough time to run outside and step in front of it.  
  
Stirring her latte, which was probably made with non-fat soy milk, Laney smiled. "I did not see Ethan again until just a week ago. Mon Dieu, you have not changed at all!" she exclaimed, turning to Rhodes. "Still so handsome and charming. And so polite! It was raining, and he offered to drive me to my home. Is he not so sweet?"  
  
Smiling wanly, I suppressed the urge to roll my eyes. Sure, anyone would accept a ride in Rhodes' snazzy car. If I hadn't known just how he had come into his inheritance, I would have been sickened at how wealthy he was.  
  
"Anyway," Laney continued, "he called me the very next day and asked me to lunch. Since then we have been together almost all the time!"  
  
Blah, blah, blah. Didn't she ever shut up? To say I was furious would have been the understatement of the century. I had barely heard from Rhodes over the past entire week, and now I knew exactly why. Why hadn't he told me he was seeing anyone? Had he kept me in the dark on purpose? I had thought we were friends: how could he be so cruel?  
  
Damn, there went the streetcar.  
  
Pushing my chair out, I stood up and stretched. Rhodes, who had been unsurprisingly silent during this little exchange, now spoke up. "Bridges? Are you leaving already?"  
  
I felt my eye twitch. The *nerve* of him. Shouldering my purse, I turned and smiled at him. I could barely keep the tears out of my eyes. "Yeah, I should probably go. I was going to call my dad today, seeing as how I'm not going to be visiting him this Christmas."  
  
"Well, you don't have to go. You can use my cell phone--"  
  
"*No*, that's all right," I interrupted him hastily. "You two probably want to catch up, so I'll just get out of your hair. It was nice meeting you, Laney. Rhodes..." I swallowed a lump in my throat and turned around. "I'll see you around."  
  
Without a second glance, I walked out of the coffee house and into the busy street, no longer able to suppress my sniffles. Dimly, I was aware that passersby were staring at me, but I didn't care. Pulling my coat tighter around myself, I stopped at the crosswalk and sniffed hard. The weather was frigidly cold, but it wasn't nearly as cold as I felt inside.  
  
I was so stupid.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
The second I closed my apartment door behind me, a ragged sob tore from my throat. Throwing off my coat and scarf, I collapsed on my battered, sagging couch, crying freely now. Why did everything have to change? Why did I have to have these feelings for the one person I never had a chance with? And why had I tricked myself into believing I *did* have a chance?  
  
Damn that Laney. Laney LeFavre. Sounded like a stage name, if you asked me. She just *had* to stroll back into Rhodes' life, with her perfect hair and nails and cheesy French accent. Even her eyelashes looked expensive. Then again, I supposed it made sense that Rhodes would end up with such a beautiful woman. He deserved no less.  
  
Besides, who was I kidding, anyway, thinking that I could ever compete with Laney? With her long brown hair and sapphire eyes, she was a goddess on Earth. And what was I? My eyes were hazel, my hair a boring shade of honey brown, and I was only five feet two inches tall. If Laney was a goddess, then that made me a pixie.  
  
Choking back one last wretched sob, I suddenly rose angrily from the couch. "Oh, quit feeling sorry for yourself," I told myself. Looking over at the mirror on the far wall, I examined myself. "You're not that plain. Sure, you're short, and a little scrawny. But some guys like that. You're just... going after the wrong one."  
  
Hearing myself admit this so baldly actually helped, if only a little. Wiping the tears fiercely from my eyes, I picked up the phone and dialed my father's number.  
  
On the second ring Rachel, my father's physical therapist, answered. "Hello?"  
  
"Hi, Rachel," I said, sniffing again. "Can I talk to Dad?"  
  
"Oh, Nadia, of course. He's right here. You're not getting a cold, are you? You don't sound like yourself."  
  
Despite myself, I gave a watery smile. "No, I'm fine," I replied.  
  
"Well, okay. Just making sure. Here's your father."  
  
There was a short silence, and then the voice of my father, Douglas Bridges, spoke. "Hey, princess. It's good to hear from you." My father was a quadriplegic, and he had to take a short breath between each sentence. "Alma's been asking about you. I told her you wouldn't be coming up this year. She almost died of apoplectic shock."  
  
I chuckled. "Alma is such a drama queen," I said. "So how is everyone up in Olympia? How are you doing?"  
  
"I'm good; everyone's doing good. But we're sure going to miss you this Christmas." Dad didn't bother to hide the disappointment in his voice.  
  
With a sad smile, I said, "I know, Dad. But it's been over two years since I moved here, and I wanted to spend just one Christmas in San Francisco. It's my home now."  
  
Dad snorted good-naturedly. "Puh. Don't you try to tell me that's why you're not coming up this year. You're staying because you want to be with your 'Rhodes'."  
  
My heart plummeted into my stomach. Why did he have to bring up Rhodes? "Uh, Dad..."  
  
"Oh, it's not a big deal. Ethan's a good kid. And I know you care about him. To tell you the truth, we all have a pool going to see when you two are going to get serious."  
  
"But Dad..." Tears sprung to my eyes again.  
  
"Yes, princess?"  
  
My voice broke. "Rhodes has a girlfriend."  
  
Silence reigned eternal on the other end. Then, slowly, my father spoke again, his voice laced with disbelief. "You're kidding me, right?"  
  
I hiccuped. "Nuh-uh."  
  
"What!?" Now Dad was quite upset, almost affronted. I could just see Rachel trying to calm him down. "That wasn't supposed to happen! No, Alma and I got it all worked out. Ethan is going to tell you he loves you on New Year's Eve. Then, when the clock strikes midnight, he'll kiss you. It's good luck to kiss on New Year's. That's how it's going to work."  
  
But my mind was still reeling from what he had told me so casually earlier. "Hey, wait a minute. You guys have a *bet* going?" I asked indignantly.  
  
"Never mind that. Princess, you've got to straighten this out. Who is this girl?"  
  
I sighed. "Laney LeFavre. She's French, and gorgeous, and so perfect it's enough to drive me insane."  
  
"Laney LeFavre? Sounds like a stage name." I had to laugh. Like father, like daughter. "Well listen, you just have to put a stop to this. That's all there is to it. Ethan doesn't belong with a fake little French tart. He needs someone well-rounded, and down to earth. Someone who's been with him through everything. That boy needs *you*."  
  
A peculiar tight feeling grew in my chest. "You really think so?" I asked weakly.  
  
"I *know* so. You want to know something? This same thing happened back when your mom and I were young. We were best friends, and I was crazy about her. But she was going out with this pretentious snob at the time. After a while, though, she came to her senses and saw who she really belonged with." He chuckled. "I was the better-looking one, anyway."  
  
I took a deep, shaky breath and smiled. "Mom made a good decision."  
  
"And that's just my point. Sooner or later, Ethan's going to make the right decision. But it won't happen unless you do something. You make that little numbskull see how much you mean to him. You got that?"  
  
Laughing again, I said, "I got it, Dad."  
  
"That's my girl. I'd better let you go. You've got a lot of work to do before New Year's, if you get my drift. I've got some serious cash on the line here. Talk to you later, princess."  
  
"I love you, Dad."  
  
"I love you, too." As I pushed the 'end' button and set the phone down, I felt a surge of determination. Maybe my father was right. Maybe I was the perfect woman for Rhodes, and he just didn't know it. I had to make him see I was the better choice than that croissant-for-brains Laney, and that he was making a huge mistake dating her.  
  
With a snicker, I realized I already had a headstart. I was the one person Rhodes had confessed his tragic and guilt-ridden past to, and despite his firm conviction that I would never wanted to see him again, I had stayed by his side. We had been together through countless cases, to say nothing of the encounter with my cold-blooded killer of a massage instructor, which nearly ended in Rhodes' death.  
  
Who had been the one to stay with him until the ambulance arrived? Who had sat in the waiting room of the hospital the entire night, and half the day in his room, just to make she he would be all right? Not Laney, that was for damn sure.  
  
And if I didn't have enough cards stacked in my favor, I still had the ultimate Christmas gift prepared for Rhodes: something he would never forget. If he didn't dump Laney on her butt the second he opened my present, I would be a shocked woman, indeed.  
  
Maybe this wouldn't be such a crappy Christmas, after all.  
  
I crossed my small living room into the kitchen, wondering what I should prepare for lunch. Maybe, I thought with a smirk, I would fix all of Rhodes' favorite foods and invite the darling couple over for a bite. Before I could open the refrigerator, however, the phone rang.  
  
Skidding out of the kitchen, I hurried over to the table beside the couch and picked up the handset. "Bridges," I rapped out in a monotone; more out of habit than anything else. Sometimes I recieved calls from the police station, or even the federal office.  
  
"Oh, Miss Nadia! Oh, you must come quickly! C'est horrible!"  
  
My eyes widened in surprise. How in the seven Hells did that ditz get my number? Oh wait. Rhodes' speed-dial. "Laney?" I asked in disbelief. She sounded absolutely hysterical. "Calm down! What's the matter?"  
  
"It is Ethan! He is sick, so very sick!" My stomach gave a terrible lurch, while Laney continued ranting. "I do not know how it happened! You must come, Nadia! I do not know what to do!"  
  
I fought to control my breathing. This couldn't be happening; Rhodes never got sick. "Hang on, just try to stay calm," I told her. What a hypocrite I was. This from someone who was trying to balance the phone on my left shoulder while trying to pull on my coat at the same time. "I'll be over there as soon as I can."  
  
Hanging up on her before she could lose it again, I threw the phone on the couch, not bothering to put it back in the charger. Making sure my keys were in my coat, I rushed out of my apartment and down the stairwell to the ground floor. In a matter of seconds I was out in the street, frantically waving my arms for a taxi.  
  
*Hang on, Rhodes,* I thought, squeezing my eyes shut. *Hang on, I'm coming.*  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
Literally throwing my fare to the cab driver as the car rolled to a stop outside Rhodes' condominium complex, I climbed out of the back seat and made my way to the iron gate which opened out into the little courtyard. Racing past the tall, bare elm trees and the fountain, which was shut off for the winter, I reached the brick building in the far left corner of the courtyard and climbed the steps to the front door.  
  
I tried the door, and found it unlocked. Pushing it open, I stepped into the foyer and was greeted by a most unwelcome sight.  
  
On the futon couch in the living room, Rhodes lay prone, buried under at least half a dozen blankets. Kneeling on the floor next to the couch, Laney stared at him, worry clouding her flawless face. Her hand gripped Rhodes' limp one tightly.  
  
I heard a strangled noise tear from my throat, and in an instant I was on my knees by his side. He looked worse than I had ever seen him. His hair hung limp and damp on his forehead, and his face was even whiter than usual. And his eyes, oh God, his eyes, they looked so dull and lifeless. "Rhodes," I said, unable to the anxiety out of my voice. "Rhodes, I'm here. You're going to be all right."  
  
What was I saying? How did I know?  
  
Slowly, Rhodes' eyes met mine. Slipping his hand out of Laney's, he lifted it to the side of my face. It was cold and clammy. "Bridges," he murmured, his lips barely moving. "You came."  
  
Unconsciously leaning into his touch, I covered his hand with my own. "Yes, Rhodes. I came. I told you I'd never leave you, and now I'm here."  
  
Laney watched this exchange with more than a little jealousy, but I turned to her. "When did you first notice that he was feeling ill?" I asked.  
  
"I... I am not sure," she replied, panic creeping into her voice. "Two hours? Perhaps more? But I did not think anything of it; he said he was fine." She swallowed hard. "And then he collapsed outside, and that is when I called you."  
  
I looked at Rhodes again. He had not taken his eyes off me, nor had he lowered his hand. "How do you feel?" I asked gently.  
  
Rhodes shivered. "C-cold," he replied, his teeth chattering. I felt his forehead, and I knew he had a fever. "And hot. At the same time." He blinked at his own observation. "And dizzy. Weak, disoriented... Limited motor functions..." He listed them off, as if to keep his mind focused.  
  
"I am calling the doctor," Laney said instantly, rising from the floor.  
  
Suddenly Rhodes' head seemed to clear. "NO!!" he shouted, causing us both to jump.  
  
"But you are ill!" she protested, her hands on her hips. "We simply cannot stay here, doing nothing! We must get you help!"  
  
My partner looked at me beseechingly. I sighed and shook my head. "Just wait for now, Laney," I told her. "If his fever doesn't go down, we'll call the doctor. In the meantime, maybe you should soak a washcloth in cold water and bring it to put on his forehead."  
  
Laney stared at me, then Rhodes, then me again. "Mon Dieu," she finally muttered, shuffling off to the kitchen.  
  
"Bridges..."  
  
I snapped to attention at the sound of Rhodes' voice, and tightened my hold on his hand. "Yes?" I whispered.  
  
"Are you..." He faltered, then began again. "Are you angry with me?"  
  
Tears spilled over my cheeks. Looking down at his pale, slack face, and his listless green eyes, I completely lost all of the anger I had been harboring toward him, and Laney. All I cared about was seeing him okay again. "No," I said fiercely. "No, I'm not angry with you, Rhodes. I could never be angry with you, ever again."  
  
His long fingers slid across my cheek, over my lips, and down the side of my neck. I shivered at his touch, but not because it was cold. When he spoke, his voice was low and hoarse. "I certainly hope so," he said.  
  
I pondered over what he meant by this.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
A/N: Dun dun dunnnn... I can't believe I wrote all that in one day. Usually it would take me much longer, especially for such an emotion-charged chapter. Anyway, I'll let you take your own meaning to the last thing Rhodes said. March Hare knows what he's talking about, but that's because she already knows what's going to happen. My, how we both love having things spoiled for us! Leave a review if you liked what you read, and if you didn't... well, leave one, anyway. I want to know what you didn't like. Ciao for now!  
  
Wakizashi  
  
tricksparrow@hotmail.com 


	3. The Little Busy Bee

A/N: Whoa boy, am I sick. That's right, laryngitis, cough, stuffed-up nose; the whole enchilada. But that's never stopped me from writing before! As always, thank you very much for your reviews, you wonderful people! You'd think I was like, an author or something! Just kidding. But really, I do appreciate your feedback. Oh, by the way, someone mentioned that this story was moving a bit fast. A brilliant deduction, indeed, because that was my intention. A lot of things are going to have to happen between Christmas Eve and New Year's, so I've got to cram it all inside that relatively short amount of time. Someone else asked me how long the story's going to be, and I'm going to have to disappoint you: only eight chapters. But don't worry, I've already got a _third_ story in the works! Booya! And on another note, I'm glad everyone hates Laney! That's what I was going for, and I'm happy that everyone picked up on her suspicious actions.

And now, response to some of your reviews!

Rosethorn, Brink, Chibi Hermione, Kat Thorne, and Settiai: Yeah yeah, I know you know what's going to happen, but shhh! -covers your mouths- Some other people haven't read 'The Dying Detective'. And they don't gotsta know the truth just yet. -wink wink-

The Name Changer: CANDY! -gobbles it up- Thank you kindly, and the sugar rush which will ensue shall be used to continue writing.

Kittenchatter: I'm glad you liked the "streetcar" bit. That was my personal favorite line, too! And now, I think I have a triple fudge oreo cookie shake coming my way: that is, if you think I updated fast enough.

snowwolf: No, of course you have not offended me! The whole point in creating Laney was to make everyone hate her. After all, she's the main force that's trying to pull Rhodes and Bridges apart.

A.Spencer: Wowie, you put this story on your 'Favorites' list! I feel so privileged! I don't know why, but that always makes me feel extra-special. Much obliged!

Jezrael the Jealous: My my, I can already see I'm going to have some trouble with you, mein freund. Just remember, if you strangle me, no more Rhodes and Bridges! ...Well, unless someone else starts writing their own stories. But anyway, I understand your impatience. And once the story is finished, you can help a few of the others kill Laney. Does that appease you?

jepa: A chapter narrated by Rhodes? My my, what a very unconventional idea! But it seems we are on the same wavelength, because I've actually been thinking about writing, just not a chapter from Rhodes' point of view, but the entire third story! But of course, I'd have to first ask everyone, and see if they liked the idea. Oh, and to answer your question, in this story Rhodes is 26 and Bridges is 24.

Okay, those are all my thoughts, so let's get on with chapter three, shall we?

Disclaimer: Characters are mine. 'The Dying Detective' belongs to Sir Arthur Conan Doyle.

----

Down the Rabbit Hole

a modern Sherlock Holmes fanfiction

by Wakizashi

----

Chapter Three: The Little Busy Bee

----

If I must be truthful with my readers, I had absolutely no idea what to do. Rhodes was very ill, and yet he adamantly refused treatment from any doctor whatsoever. I didn't understand. He wanted to get well, didn't he? And the only way he could even begin to recover was to find out what was wrong in the first place. But he would have none of it. He really drove me insane sometimes.

Never mind, it didn't matter. All I knew was that Rhodes was cold, but he had a fever. So I had to do all I could to remedy both problems.

Grabbing two more blankets from the closet in the upstairs hallway, I made my way back down the stairs to the living room. Laney was pacing up and down the room with little glances toward my partner, arms crossed over her chest. Apparently she was still annoyed that Rhodes was refusing medical attention. I suspected she was one of those people who were used to getting their own way all the time. Somehow, I knew she wouldn't be of much use.

Unfolding the first blanket, and then the second, I draped each one over Rhodes and knelt by his side. "Better?" I asked gently. He nodded feebly, and I couldn't stop myself from reaching out and smoothing his unruly black hair. To hell with what Laney thought; I cared about this man, and I was going to do whatever it took to nurse him back to health. "Is there anything else I can do? How about some tea?"

"Tea?" Rhodes considered this for a moment, then gave another weak nod. "Yes, I'd like some tea. Thank you, Bridges."

Always so polite. If I had known for sure he wasn't contagious, I would have leaned forward and kissed him. Instead, I ruffled his hair again and smiled. "No problem. I'll be right back." Standing up, I turned to Laney. Here was a good time to make herself useful. "Laney, why don't you come in the kitchen and help me?"

She blinked, and nodded slowly. As she followed me into the back of the condo, I rolled my eyes. I wouldn't have been surprised if she had never even made tea before. Spoiled little brat.

Padding across the reddish-brown tile floor, I reached into the tangle of copper pots hanging above the island and pulled down a tea kettle. "The tea bags are in the second cupboard to the left, if I remember correctly," I told Laney as I filled the kettle in the sink. Over my shoulder, I watched, pleased with myself, as Laney opened the indicated cabinet and was greeted by a large selection of teas. "Get down the jasmine-and-orange-blossom, it's Rhodes' favorite," I said.

Laney looked at me with a quirked eyebrow, then did as she was told. It felt good to be ordering people around in somebody else's house.

As I set the kettle on the stove and cranked up the burner, Laney pulled a stool up to the island. "You know your way around Ethan's kitchen very well," she remarked.

What was that supposed to mean? Determined not to let her get under my skin - I know, I know, it was a little too late for that - I just chuckled good-naturedly. "Yeah, well you know how it is. I've known Rhodes for over two years. I guess it just comes natural after a while."

"Two years," she echoed thoughtfully, tracing the pattern of tiles on the counter with her fingernail. "That is surprising."

Okay, _that_ wasn't going to slip by me so easily. "Oh?" I said casually. "Why do you say that?"

Laney shrugged, a motion she somehow managed to appear stuck-up. "I just always thought," she said slowly, "that Ethan is not a very... social person. He does not have many close friends, _n'est-ce pas?_"

I opened another cupboard and brought down a cup. "Mmm, no, not really," I replied. "You'd be right in saying that he's a pretty closed-off guy to people who don't know him." I snickered, remembering how Rhodes had reacted when my friend Alma had first greeted him. "But we've been through a lot together. And we've gotten used to all the little things that annoy us about each other." Turning to her with a full-force smile, I said proudly, "He's the greatest friend I've ever had."

Now both of her eyebrows shot up. "Friend?" she said dubiously. "Are you sure that is all he is to you?"

We stared silently at each other from either end of the island. So that was how it was going to be, then. All right, I could play that game, too. Slowly, deliberately, I folded my arms. "I don't know," I said. "What do you think?"

The corner of her lip raised in a little smirk. "Since you asked," she said in a low, furtive voice. Her coy, innocent manner had completely dissolved. "I think that you are in love with Ethan. It is so obvious a child could see it. The way you touch him, the way you speak to him in that special voice. But he does not see it, and it drives you mad. That is what I think."

"Really." I knew I should have felt furious that she had noticed I had feelings for Rhodes, but curiously enough, all I felt was an icy detachment. "Well, if you were to ask what I think, I would say that I'm tired of pretending I like you. I think you are a pretentious little snob, and it's not going to take Rhodes very long to realize that you are the embodiment of everything he hates in a woman. And I think you feel threatened by how close we are." I imitated her French accent and smiled. "Zat is what _I_ t'ink."

Suddenly the kettle started to whistle, and I turned off the burner. "Tea's ready!" I said cheerfully.

Laney's mouth set in a pert little line as she glared heatedly at me. Pointedly ignoring her icy blue stare, I poured hot water into the cup and dropped in a tea bag. Picking up the cup, I gestured her politely toward the living room. "After you."

Stomping past me down the hallway, Laney crossed the living room and stopped beside the futon couch. Rhodes appeared to have fallen asleep, but as she knelt next to him, he stirred slightly. "Bridges?" he murmured.

That, it appeared, was the final straw for Laney. I couldn't hide the smile of satisfaction on my face as she expelled a breath of frustration. "I am going home," she announced, standing up and planting her fists on her hips. "I will call you later to see how you are doing, and if you are no better, I am getting you a doctor. That is final."

And then she bent down and pressed her lips firmly against his. White-hot fury surged through my veins as she straightened and flashed me one last triumphant smile. "Goodbye, Ethan. _À bientôt_, Miss Nadia."

The front door slammed shut, and I stood there holding the cup of tea, shaking with anger. She would get what was coming to her; oh, I would see to that.

----

After Laney LeFool relieved us of her presence, I got to work. No one can accuse me of saying my time wasn't occupied, because every minute was used in tending to my ailing friend. I moved Rhodes upstairs to his bed, I soaked and re-soaked the cloth for his forehead, and I prepared food for him - that is, when he felt confident enough to eat. I even helped him to the bathroom when it became evident that he wasn't ready for food just yet. He was quite stubborn in his refusal to allow me inside with him, but I could hear the sound of his retching echoing harshly off the bathroom walls as I waited outside. I sank to the floor, trying to block out the awful noise.

One thing I was not going to let him talk me out of was packing a suitcase at my apartment and staying with him until he recovered from his illness. When I first suggested it, Rhodes was naturally against the idea, but this time I wasn't going to cave.

"I'm staying with you, and you're not going to convince me otherwise," I said obstinately as he glared up at me from his pillow.

"Bridges, you're being ridiculous," he shot back irately. His accent became much more pronounced when he was irritated. "I'll be fine. You don't need to keep mothering me like this. I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself. I think that much is evident, considering how long I survived without you."

"I'm not going to go back home, and leave you here alone all night," I continued, unfazed by his rudeness. "What if something happened? What if you took a turn for the worse, and I wasn't here? I wouldn't be able to live with myself."

Suddenly Rhodes propped himself up on one arm. His face softened, and his voice became much more pleasing to the ears. "Your concern is appreciated, Bridges," he said gently, taking my hand and pulling me to sit on the edge of his bed. I was instantly on the alert. "It really does touch me to know how much you care. But I can assure you, you're worrying over nothing. I'll be all right in a couple of days." He ran his fingertips between my knuckles, like he always did when he was trying to placate me. "You don't have to stay."

I smirked. "Nice try, Romeo," I said, jerking my hand away. "But by God, you're not going to change my mind this time, no matter how cute and charming you try to be." His nose scrunched up in displeasure, and I gave it a good flick and stood up. "Oh, quit pouting, Rhodes, it's never worked on me before. You're sick and I'm going to take care of you. That's what it all boils down to, my friend."

Rhodes gave me a long, scrutinizing look, and finally sighed, knowing he had been defeated for once. "Very well," he said wearily, sinking back down his pillow. "Go on and get your things. But take my car. There's no sense in wasting more money on a cab ride."

My mouth dropped open, and I quickly closed it to keep from drooling. Me, drive Rhodes' car? He never let anyone drive that beauty but himself, and now he was proposing _I_ take it for a spin? What a very silly, very _delicious_ notion.

"Are you sure?" I asked, my voice betraying my sweet anticipation.

He nodded and waved me away with his hand. "Yes, go, before I change my mind," he replied listlessly. "My keys are in my coat pocket, which I believe is hanging over the back of the couch. If you're not back soon, I'll assume you got into an accident and are willing to pay for the damages."

With a delighted squeal I was unsuccessful in holding back, I dashed out of his bedroom and down the stairs into the living room, scooping up Rhodes' elegantly tailored jacket and fishing out the keys. Barely remembering to close the front door behind me, I all but skipped to the parking garage and pushed the button on Rhodes' remote door opener. I was so excited as the garage door slowly opened that I unconsciously held my breath.

There she was, my partner's 2002 Ford Thunderbird, waiting in the dark garage and just _begging_ me to drive her. The cold afternoon light bounced off its gleaming black surface, and though the weather made driving it with the top down out of the question, it was still going to be an unparalleled joy to be seen in that baby. And I soon would be.

Unlocking the driver's side door, I climbed in and shut it again, immediately sinking into the soft white leather. I sat there for a moment in awe, then slowly, solemnly, I turned the key in the ignition and the 252-horsepower engine rumbled to life.

The traffic was a nightmare as I pulled carefully out into the street, closing the garage with the remote. It was Christmas Eve, after all, and no doubt people were still taking care of last-minute chores, like shopping for Christmas dinner and picking up relatives and whatnot. As I stopped at an intersection, I realized with a sinking feeling that Rhodes and I were not likely to celebrate this Christmas in a very traditional way: no Christmas ham, or tree, or sitting around the fire, surrounded by loved ones. We were it this year, unless you counted that French version of Yoko Ono who had weaseled her way into our lives.

I shook my head. There was no way I was going to let his sickness, or Laney's... existence get in the way of spending a nice holiday with my best friend.

Grr, Laney! I shook my fist at her mentally. How dare she figure out I had a thing for Rhodes! And accusing me of being in love with him; now _that_ was entirely inaccurate. I had feelings for him, and I cared a lot about him as a friend. But my feelings weren't strong enough to be considered love. Or at least, I didn't think so. Yet.

Exhaling in annoyance, I forced those thoughts out of my mind with an effort. Inspecting Rhodes' collection of CDs, I selected a Moby album and put it in the car stereo. Letting the soothing sounds of "Porcelain" fill the car, I slowly began to relax. No point in driving angry.

Going was slow, and the CD was almost finished playing when I finally found an empty space outside my apartment building. Pleased that I managed not to crunch the bumper while parallel-parking, I climbed out of the T-Bird and locked it. "I'll only be gone a minute," I assured the car before running inside and climbing up the stairwell to my floor.

And in fact, it didn't take me long to pack myself some clothes and toiletries, along with some books I hadn't gotten around to reading yet. The real problem was managing to carry my suitcase, along with the presents I had bought and wrapped for Rhodes, down the stairs and to the car without dropping anything. I say "presents" because every year we always got each other a gag present - something we knew the other would hate and all the more amusing because of it - and also a few minor gifts, along with one main gift from the heart.

I couldn't wait for Rhodes to open that one.

----

When I opened the door to Rhodes' condo, I heard the unmistakable sound of an acoustic guitar. After dumping my burden of luggage and gifts in the foyer, I climbed the stairs and opened Rhodes' bedroom door. There, in his room that was meticulously crafted to resemble Vincent Van Gogh's own bedroom in Arles, Rhodes sat on his big oak bed, propped up against at least five pillows and strumming on his favorite old guitar.

He raised his head at my arrival and smiled faintly. His face, which had been pale before, was now flushed and damp with sweat, and my worry soared again. "Bridges, welcome back," he said in a weak voice before resuming his playing. "Did you enjoy the trip?"

"Immensely," I replied, sitting on the bed beside him. I reached up and felt his slick forehead. "You don't look so good," I remarked, ignoring his weary sigh. "I think you might be dehydrated. Do you want me to get you some water?"

I started to rise from the bed, but Rhodes gestured with his head to the table by the window, and I noticed an empty glass and a pitcher full of water. "As you can see, I'm not entirely helpless," he said with another smile.

"Oh." I sat back down, wondering if there was anything else I can do.

"I can see that you are feeling dejected, Bridges," Rhodes noted in a kind voice. "May I make an observation?"

Surprised, I nodded silently.

He ceased playing his guitar and looked up at me. "You've been waiting on me hand and foot all day because it is what comes naturally to you when someone you know is out of sorts. You took care of your father after the accident, and when you could finally afford to hire a physical therapist, you were no longer needed. This cut you deeply, so you resolved to become a masseuse because you wanted to feel like you were helping again. Am I wrong in presuming this?"

I couldn't speak; I could only shake my head. How could Rhodes know me so well? Not for the first time, I wondered why I possessed this strange desire to feel needed.

Rhodes put his hand on my arm. "And now you're waiting on me, because you've found someone else who is in need of your assistance," he said softly. "I'd like you to know, Bridges, that I'm very grateful for it."

My throat closed up, and I found myself blinking back tears. I opened my mouth in a feeble attempt to speak, but Rhodes resumed his absent strumming on his guitar. "You brought everything you'll be needing, I hope?" he asked.

I cleared my throat. "Yeah," I said quickly, standing up again.

"Good, good. You can put everything in the spare bedroom. I pushed aside the weight bench and laid out the inflatable air mattress for you. No need to get out the bedclothes; they're already on it."

"What?" I gaped at him with a mixture of surprise and frustration. "Rhodes, you didn't have to do that! You're in no condition to exert yourself--"

"How I choose to waste my energy is my own decision, my dear Bridges," he interrupted stubbornly. "Besides," he added in a gentler tone, "it was the least I could do for my nursemaid."

If we had been keeping a score of our victories over the years, it would be 'Bridges - 3, Rhodes - 419'.

But I was grateful at the end of the day for Rhodes' considerate actions, because the moment I changed into my nightclothes and my head hit the pillow, I was out. It appeared, however, that destiny had not included sleep on its list of things for me to do that week, because at roughly two o'clock in the morning, I heard those dreadful retching sounds again.

In an instant I was on my feet, and I padded out of the room and into the hallway. At the end of the hall, I could see light glowing from under the bathroom door. I tapped on the door softly. "Rhodes?" I called. "Are you okay?"

The water in the sink turned on for a moment, and then shut off as the door opened. Rhodes heaved a great shaky sigh and stepped out in a tank top and a pair of gray-and-white flannel pants. "I'm sorry I woke you, Bridges," he said miserably. "You can go back to bed."

I shook my head. "No point, I won't be getting back to sleep any time soon." A new thought entered my head, and I smiled. "Merry Christmas, by the way."

Rhodes returned my smile. "Merry Christmas."

"Why don't we open our gifts, now that we're both awake?" I suggested hopefully. "Come on, you'll feel better."

"I have no doubt of it," he replied, and I returned to the spare bedroom to retrieve his presents. When I came back down the hallway and into Rhodes' room, I scowled as I found him pulling wrapped boxes out from under his bed. The little booger, so that was where he had been hiding them.

He insisted that I open my gag present first, so we sat together on his giant bed as I unwrapped an oddly shaped package. Frowning, I tore the paper off and burst out laughing. It was a six-pack of Play-Doh containers, each a different color. Attached was a note written in Rhodes' meticulous hand: "Warning - Do Not Eat".

"You are such a dork," I said, shoving him playfully. He merely grinned as I handed him his own gag present. It was a large, flat box, and he shook it curiously before tearing it open and removing the lid. As I had suspected, his first reaction was to scowl in distaste. Inside was a brightly colored Hawaiian shirt in his size, patterned with green palm fronds and scarlet macaws. To someone else, perhaps, it might have made a nice gift, but Rhodes was extremely averse to wearing colors.

His expression of displeasure quickly faded, and he set the shirt ceremoniously to one side. "Thank you, I shall treasure it always," he said gravely.

We opened our other gifts, saving the most important ones for last. Rhodes greatly appreciated everything I got him: a gray silk tie, a few CDs, and a pair of early Gothic-style bookends. I was also presently surprised by the gifts he got me: a calligraphy set, some opal earrings, and a beautiful crystal paperweight. Finally it was time to exchange the gifts we had been waiting until the end to open.

To my surprise, Rhodes handed me a small, plain envelope. Looking at him carefully, I tore it open and pulled out a brochure for a ski lodge at Lake Tahoe. I raised my eyebrows. "What's this about?" I asked, examining the various pictures of snow-covered hills and rooms lit with glowing fireplaces.

Rhodes smiled. "I booked us for a two-week vacation there this spring. Which is, incidentally, the same time Haydee is due."

My heart gave a brief stutter. "Haydee?" I repeated in an unsteady voice. Haydee had been the name of the horse I had been forced to sell when my father and I left the farm.

At that moment a glossy photograph fell out of the brochure, and I plucked it from my lap. It was a picture of a beautiful Appaloosa mare, its belly swollen with an unborn foal. "That's her mother," Rhodes explained, pointing to the picture. "Her owners told me I could buy the filly when she was born. Once she's old enough, she's all yours."

Tears sprung to my eyes, and I hugged him tightly. It was the sweetest thing anyone had ever done for me. "I can't believe this, Rhodes," I choked out. "Thank you so much."

He stroked my hair for a moment before pulling away, rubbing his hands together. "Think nothing of it," he replied good-naturedly. "Now, I believe it is my turn?"

Suddenly my present didn't seem that great. Rhodes had gotten me an entire horse, not to mention a reservation at what was most likely a very expensive ski resort. The gift I had bought for him had been expensive too, but it paled in comparison to his. "It's... It's nothing special," I said, holding it to my chest in embarrassment. "I just thought you'd like it--"

Before I could react, Rhodes had snatched it deftly out of my hand. "Come now, Bridges, there's no need to be so defensive," he said mildly, ripping off the layers of paper. "I'm sure I will love it, just as I have loved all the other..." His voice trailed off, and he stared at his gift in stunned silence. Then, reverently, his white fingers slid down the front of the first-edition print of 'Alice's Adventure's Underground', dating back to the year it was first published. Its cover was marvelously restored to its original glory, and each chapter was fully illustrated.

Rhodes stared at it for what seemed like hours. Finally he spoke, his eyes still glued to the book. "Bridges," he whispered. "My father used to read this story to Alice all the time when she was a child. It was the only way he could get her to sleep."

My poor, wonderful Rhodes. How he missed his younger sister. Her fate was a tale Rhodes had confessed to me alone, and I was, therefore, the only one who knew how much a gift like this would mean to him.

Hesitantly, I laid my hand on his arm. Only then did he raise his eyes to mine. "I don't know what to say," he said softly.

I smiled gently. "Now you have something to put between your bookends," I suggested.

Setting the book carefully beside him, he pulled me into his embrace, burying his face in my hair. "Thank you, Bridges, thank you," he kept repeating, his voice muffled. I just held him, patting his back comfortingly. As he tightened his hold on me, I gave a deep sigh of contentment. Whether or not he was contagious was no longer an issue.

Reluctantly, Rhodes pulled away, though I was extremely aware that his hands were still on my waist. He looked away nervously and, removing one hand, picked up the book again. "This may sound foolish, but... Will you... read this to me?"

My chest tightened at his request, and I desperately wished I had a sprig of mistletoe with me. "Of course," I said, my voice barely above a whisper.

He handed me the book, and I leaned back against the pillows as he stretched out his long body beside me. Opening the cover and breathing in the pleasant, musty smell, I turned the pages to the very first chapter and began to read. "'Alice was beginning to get very tired of sitting by her sister on the bank, and of having nothing to do: once or twice she had peeped into the book her sister was reading, but it had no pictures or conversations in it, "and what is the use of a book," thought Alice, "without pictures or conversation?"...'"

----

A/N: Ahhhhh, finished. Now I need to blow my nose and disinfect the keyboard, lest someone else catch my wicked, wicked cold. I don't think I need to say that 'Alice's Adventures in Wonderland' is not mine; Lewis Carroll has that privilege. Please leave a review and tell me what you thought. I, personally, am rather pleased with this chapter. And hey, at least it doesn't end with a cliffhanger, so ha, can't pin that one on me! Ciao for now!

Wakizashi


	4. The Mock Turtle's Song

A/N: Ooooooh, you're gonna like this chapter... March Hare, you in particularly have been waiting for one certain scene for quite a while. Bwahaha! Thanks for beta reading, by the way, as if I didn't thank you already a bajillion times. Anyway, thank you all again for your reviews. I can't believe I have so many, and the story only has three chapters! Not counting this one, I mean. I also can't believe I've been writing this story so fast. Remember when I was taking forever to finish a chapter? Well, yeah, I'm sure you do. Most of the time it was following a really nasty cliffhanger. Dreadfully sorry about that! I'm guessing that I'm writing this so quickly because I really REALLY can't wait to write the last chapter. Ohhh, it's going to be great! Eee!  
  
Reviewy answery time!  
  
Lovely, Es, and A.Spencer: Thanks for all the 'get well'-related words in your reviews! My voice is still all wonky and my nose won't stop running, but at least I don't have a fever. Ha, take that, summer colds! And Es, thanks for the ice cream!  
  
snowwolf: *looks around* Uh, I don't know, do I watch 'Kim Possible'? Actually, I've only seen it once or twice. Why do you ask?  
  
Rosethorn: WHAT did I tell you guys about killing Laney before the story was over? *grabs the implements of death out of your hands* I'm sorry, but you'll have to wait. Hmm, this won't do all all. *haphazardly puts Laney back together with duct tape and paste* There, all better!  
  
Arreiyenne: My, such diligent reviewing! I checked my email and saw fourteen new reviews! Thank you very much for your for your interest - and the cookies! - and I must say, I had fun reading all your comments.  
  
Jezrael the Jealous: Hey, same goes for you, too! I know you haven't made any murderous advances on Laney yet, but let's try to keep it that way. Yes, that's it, destroy her in plushie effigy.  
  
Silent Beatnik: Awww, a cockatiel? Cute! My sister has one, and it enjoys shiny things. *growls, remembering the blood blister she got when he tried biting off her ring*  
  
Lady Arianna: *gasps* Profanity! Well, I never! *covers your mouth* Who's that Spartan with a dirty mouth? It's you! It's you! (Sorry, dumb reference to your name and a Saturday Night Live skit)  
  
Settiai: CHOCOLATE!?! ...I mean, why thank you. This is much appreciated. *devours it instantly*  
  
GoblinQueenie: PENDERGAST?!? *looks around* How do you know about Pendergast? Ahah, well, now that the cat's out of the bag, I must admit that I did use a teensy bit of Pendergast's character when creating Rhodes, but just the Southern accent. It's not like Rhodes is blond, or from New Orleans, or anything... Haha?  
  
Ahem. I guess that's it. On another note, I didn't hear a lot of feedback on whether or not the next story should be from Rhodes' point of view. So heeeeere's what we're going to do. When you're done reading the chapter and you're writing your review, just tell me whether or not you think Rhodes narrating the next story is a good idea. All righty, we have that straightened out? Then on to chapter four!  
  
Disclaimer: Sir Arthur Conan Doyle is the official author, owner, and proprietor of 'The Dying Detective'. (even though he's no longer with us) I'm just using the plot in my little exploit.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
Down the Rabbit Hole  
  
a modern Sherlock Holmes fanfiction  
  
by Wakizashi  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
Chapter Four: The Mock-Turtle's Song  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
Christmas day that year was probably the most nerve-wracking holiday of my entire life. And I can still remember one Thanksgiving during which my grandfather, when he was alive, stepped on our cat, knocked over the Christmas tree, and fell asleep in one of the horse stalls.  
  
It wasn't that it was a pain taking care of Rhodes; I was really very happy to do it. But he was getting steadily worse, and it was worrying my brains out. He didn't drink nearly as much liquids as he should have, he barely ate at all, and what was even more worrisome, he was complaining more and more that he was cold. And that didn't make a lick of sense, considering how warm his head felt.  
  
It was nearly eighty degrees in his condo when Rhodes asked me to turn up the furnace again. I had already changed into a pair of shorts to combat the sweltering heat, and despite my concern for my partner, I was getting the distinct impression that he was only asking me to warm the house to see how many clothes I would shed. But of course that was ridiculous.  
  
I was in the process of cranking up the thermostat on the second floor yet again when the phone rang. Without even thinking, I hurried to the nearest phone, which was in Rhodes' room, and picked it up. "Hello?"  
  
A sullen, snotty voice on the other end spoke. "May I speak with Ethan?"  
  
*Crap,* I thought, cursing my own forgetfulness. It hadn't even occurred to me that Laney would be calling again to see how Rhodes was doing. Then I remembered she had mentioned she would do just that. Keeping my voice cheerfully neutral, I asked, "Can I ask who's calling?"  
  
"This is Laney. You know it is Laney."  
  
"Mm-hmm," I answered blandly. "And what is this in reference to?" Rhodes, who was reading the newspaper in bed, looked up at me curiously.  
  
Laney growled irritably. "Stop playing games, Nadia. Just let me speak with him."  
  
I sighed. "Yeah, all right, keep your beret on," I said sourly, covering the mouthpiece with my hand. "It's your girlfriend, checking up on you," I told Rhodes as I held the phone out to him. I put extra emphasis on the word "girlfriend".  
  
With a raised eyebrow, he took the phone from me and held it to his ear. "Hello, Laney," he said, folding the newspaper and lowering it into his lap. The good humor in his voice sounded strained. "Yes, I'm doing all right. Thank you for asking." What a liar. If anything, his condition was severely declining. "Ah, no, I don't think that will be necessary. I have Bridges here to take care of me..." There was a pause, and his eyebrows drew together. "Well, I don't think you have the right to judge her... Now Laney, that's just inexcusable. No. I will not allow you to speak of her that way."  
  
The subject of their conversation was all too evident, and I couldn't help but smile. Rhodes was defending me.  
  
"I am hanging up, Laney. I will see you when you decide to be civil." He pushed the end button with an angry jab of his finger and dropped the phone on the bed beside him, heaving an irritated sigh.  
  
There was a brief moment of silence. Then I said casually, "I get the feeling she doesn't like me."  
  
Rhodes pulled the cool washcloth off his forehead and set it aside, shaking his head. "I must apologize for her, Bridges. She still insists I should see a doctor, and it's obvious she's upset that I'm still refusing." He sighed again and raised the newspaper to his face. "She can be a little difficult at times."  
  
"A little," I repeated with a dry chuckle. He joined in my laughter, and I pulled up a chair next to the bed and sat down. "Rhodes," I said quietly, not sure if I had any business asking this. But I had to know. "Why are you dating Laney?"  
  
His eyes met mine above the newspaper, and I knew it had been a bad idea. "Never mind, you don't have to tell me," I said quickly. "It's not my place, I'm sorry I asked--"  
  
"No no, don't be sorry," he interrupted, setting the paper down. "There's no need to be. But why do you ask?"  
  
Oh goodness, so many reasons I could think of, Rhodes. Because you normally despise women like Laney. Because you're too intelligent to fall for someone like her. Because you've overlooked the one woman who would do anything for you. But of course I could give him none of these reasons, so I just shrugged, avoiding his eyes. "I don't know, I just... She doesn't seem like she's your type, that's all."  
  
To my surprise, I felt his hand gently tilt my chin up. My eyes grudgingly met his, and I was stunned to see him gazing at me with a warm intensity I had never seen before. I felt my cheeks flush, and my heart started thudding in my chest. Unless I was losing my mind, and I couldn't discount the possibility, that look in his eyes was unmistakable.  
  
"My dear Bridges," he whispered, tracing my jawline and making the pounding of my heart almost unbearable. "Don't trouble yourself with all that is happening to us. Soon you'll understand."  
  
He let his hand fall away from my face, and despite my racing pulse I felt my eyebrows knit in confusion at his words. Why was he being so cryptic? My mouth struggling to form words, I stammered, "W-what do you mean?"  
  
But Rhodes had already raised the newspaper to his face, as if nothing had happened. He turned a page carelessly, and his eyebrows raised in mild surprise. "Hmm, interesting," he murmured. "Researchers are genetically altering lab mice for autism studies."  
  
"What?" I felt like screaming my frustration. "Rhodes! What's going on? What aren't you telling me?"  
  
But nothing more was to be gained from this maddening conversation.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
I didn't talk to Rhodes any more than necessary until that night. I knew I wouldn't get any information out of him, and to be honest, I was a little angry with him. There was something he was hiding from me, but I couldn't figure out what it was. So I simply stopped prying. If he didn't trust me enough to let me into his confidence, then that was his problem.  
  
Instead I spent the rest of the day downstairs, catching up on my reading. Occasionally I brought Rhodes tea, or re-soaked his washcloth, but there was little else I could do for him. He wouldn't eat anything, but he refused to see a doctor. I could already tell he had lost weight.  
  
At eight o'clock that evening I resolved to do something about it, whether he liked it or not. I went into the kitchen and, despite the oppressive heat in the house, turned on the stove and warmed up some tomato soup. If nothing else, Rhodes could at least get some liquid down. Pouring the hot soup into a thermos, I took it upstairs and knocked on his door.  
  
"Hey Rhodes, hope you're decent," I said, pushing the door open with my free hand. "It's dinner time, and God knows it's been a while since you ate something. I brought you some-- Oh my God, Rhodes, what's the matter?"  
  
My partner was sitting on the edge of the bed, doubled over as if in pain. His normally pale face was flushed and damp with perspiration, and his arms were folded in front of his chest, his hands balled into fists. Nearly forgetting about the soup, I quickly set it down on the table before I dropped it.  
  
I knelt next to Rhodes, my hand on his knee. "Rhodes, are you okay? This isn't funny, tell me what's wrong!"  
  
"I... I'm not sure," he replied, his voice tight. His fists were clenched so tightly that his knuckles were white. "I ache... My back, shoulders, arms... legs. Muscle spasms, or cramps, or something. I don't know." He swallowed and squeezed his eyes shut. "God."  
  
A sick feeling washed over me. *Good Lord, what next?* I thought desperately. "Don't worry, I'm trained for just this sort of thing," I assured him. Climbing onto the bed, I sat behind him and began rubbing his gaunt shoulders. His muscles were like sacks of rocks, and they refused to relax under my hands. His shirt was too thick, and it was interfering as well. "This isn't working. Take off your shirt," I ordered crossly.  
  
Rhodes' head whipped around at that, regarding me with what could only be embarrassment. "Bridges," he said uncomfortably. "You don't have to--"  
  
"Who's the licensed massage therapist around here?" I interrupted impatiently. "Now unless you want to remain in agony, do as I say and take off your shirt."  
  
My less than courtly bedside manner was enough to get him moving. Pulling the shirt over his head with nervous, twitchy fingers, he shook it out and tossed it on the floor. As his thin but powerful arms flexed, I could see his taut muscles moving beneath his pale skin.  
  
"Now lie down on your stomach."  
  
With a sigh, Rhodes did as he was told, lifting his bare feet off the floor and stretching out on the bed. The light from his floor lamp was dim, but it was more than sufficient enough for me to take in my partner's glorious physique. Since they were given no other choice, my eyes couldn't help but roam over his lithe shoulders, his slender waist, the graceful curve of his spine.  
  
Please believe my when I say my attraction to him had nothing to do with looks.  
  
Okay, so I'm totally lying. In fact, as he settled himself into a comfortable position, I bit my lip in my hesitation. This was precisely why I had never given Rhodes a massage before. Just the thought of touching his naked back made me fearful of where exactly my hands would decide to wander. But right now he was in pain, and my apprehension was just going to have to take a back seat.  
  
Taking a deep breath, I took off my rings and set them aside. After I rubbed my hands together and realized I was just stalling, I reached out slowly and laid my hands on Rhodes' back. His lean muscles flinched slightly at my touch and sent a shiver through me.  
  
Forcing myself to remain under control, I shook my head and began loosening his shoulder muscles with the heels of my palms, being careful not to knead the tissue too hard. As I worked, I felt some of my nervousness leave me. The muscles, although they were tight and strained, began to relax as well. I moved my hands to his shoulders and upper arms, wishing all of my male clients had his body.  
  
"You know," I said, my voice sounding unexpectedly loud in the silence, "your back and shoulders wouldn't be so stiff if you didn't slouch all the time."  
  
Rhodes' body shook with a silent chuckle. "Must you reprimand me at a time like this?" he said, his tone light and easy. "Although I daresay you're right. But I'm sure that's not the only cause."  
  
Now it was my turn to laugh. "Yeah, I know. Remember the Foo Fighters concert, when you lost your shoes? I'm surprised you could even stand the next morning."  
  
He made a noise of mild irritation, and I decided to drop the subject. The tragic loss of his shoes was still a touchy subject. Instead, I continued kneading his shoulders, content to let the silence replace our awkward conversation. Several minutes passed, and when his muscles finally began to loosen, I massaged my way slowly down his long, wiry frame. At last I reached his lower back, just below the waist, and started to work at breaking up the knots in his muscles.  
  
His reaction made me jerk my hands away in surprise. A soft moan of enjoyment, almost like a purr, came from deep within Rhodes' chest, followed my a long sigh. "Mmmm," he mumbled again. "That's good."  
  
Biting back a nervous laugh, I blotted my damp palms on my shorts. *It would be really good if he didn't do that again,* I thought, taking another deep breath. It felt like there was a giant rock in my stomach. Forcing my hands to return to their position on his lower back, I resumed my ministrations.  
  
Rhodes immediately moaned again, a little louder this time. I winced and fought the urge to bolt for the door. "I must say, Bridges," he murmured, his voice low and thick. "You certainly have quite the talent."  
  
All right, that's enough; sorry, but our time is up. "Okay, you know what?" I said loudly, giving his back a jaunty pat with my hand. "I think you're done. Your muscles aren't so tense anymore, and you're clearly feeling better."  
  
With a regretful sigh, Rhodes pushed himself up, giving me a full view of his sinewy torso. It was all I could do to keep my eyes fixed on his face instead of directing their attention downward. He gave a great, catlike stretch, his neck popping loudly. "Thank you, Bridges, for that most relaxing treatment," he said with a languid smile. "I really do feel much better."  
  
"Happy I could help," I replied, returning Rhodes' smile despite my supreme discomfort. My hands still had the residual memory of being on his warm skin. "I'm glad all my studies have not been for nothing." As I crawled off the bed and stood up, I was incredibly conscious of my friend's proximity. "Well, I'm going to put your soup in the fridge for tomorrow, since it's pretty obvious you're not going to eat it. I'll be right back."  
  
And so I left him, aware that his brilliant eyes were following me out the door. I walked down the hall and descended the stairs calmly, but as soon as I reached the kitchen and put away the thermos, I closed the refrigerator door and slumped heavily against it.  
  
One thing was for certain: if Rhodes knew how much that massage had affected me, he would never have the courage to look at me again. I couldn't get the image of his lean, slender body out of my head, and every time I closed my eyes to block it out, it only returned a thousand times clearer. And his contented moans... sweet fancy Moses. I had never wanted him more.  
  
There was one small - well, actually, *large* - problem, though, and that was the fact that Rhodes already had a girlfriend. Feelings or no, there was absolutely no way I was going to steal him from another woman, no matter how much I disliked her. Rhodes was just going to have to figure out by himself that he and Laney went together like peas and ice cream. And when he did, I would be there to set him on the right path.  
  
But that got me thinking. What if Rhodes *already* knew Laney was wrong for him? That would explain his enigmatic remark to me. What had he said, exactly? "Don't trouble yourself with all that is happening to us."  
  
I frowned. *Sorry, Rhodes,* I thought. *But you've given me no other choice.*  
  
Heaving an exasperated sigh, I left the kitchen and climbed the stairs yet again. As annoyed and confused as I was, I had taken it upon myself to be with Rhodes through his mysterious illness, so that was what I would continue to do. I padded quietly down the hall, shaking my head in amazement at the thermostat, and pushed his door open.  
  
One emotion quickly shoved aside my other feelings: gut-wrenching fear. My partner was sitting on the hard wooden floor, his entire body wracked with violent shivers, trying unsuccessfully to pull his shirt over his head. A panicked gasp escaped me, and I knelt beside him and helped him into his shirt. "Oh, God, Rhodes, what's wrong? What is it now?" I asked, my voice bordering on hysteria.  
  
"F-freezing," he stuttered, his teeth chattering quite audibly. He leaned into me for warmth, and I instinctively drew my arm around him.  
  
"How can you be cold?" I said desperately, my head spinning. "It's at least eighty degrees in here! Come on, let's get you under the covers." With his assistance, I pulled him shakily to his feet. As I drew back the heavy bedclothes, he collapsed on top of the big mattress, drawing deep, shuddery breaths. "Hang in there, I'm going to get some more blank-- whoa!!"  
  
Reaching out with one hand, Rhodes unexpectedly snagged me around the waist and pulled me onto the bed beside him, holding me tightly against him in a last, pathetic effort to get warm. My face flamed with embarrassment as he pulled the covers over both of us with slow, stupid fingers. "Rhodes," I protested awkwardy, my protestation all too evident as I uttered the single word.  
  
"I hope you'll forgive me for this indiscretion, Bridges," he muttered, his words slurring together as he tugged me closer still. "I'm just so cold; I can't think of any other way to fight it off."  
  
My heart felt a stab for him, and my discomfort slowly melted away. *The poor thing,* I thought, my eyes stinging with tears. How long was he going to keep suffering like this? "It's okay," I told him softly, shifting onto my back to allow him to rest his head on my shoulder. "Whatever helps you feel better."  
  
I could feel his shivers slightly abate as he draped his arm over my stomach. He let out a little sigh, his breath on my neck causing me to shiver myself. "I don't deserve you, Bridges," he murmured.  
  
"Sure you do," I said, stroking his hair.  
  
Rhodes shook his head minutely. "No, I don't." He was silent for a while, but then suddenly he lifted his head until he was staring down into my face. His arm was still wrapped tightly, almost needily, around me. "Have I ever told you that you're beautiful?" he asked.  
  
My chest tightened. "N-no," I said slowly, swallowing hard.  
  
"Hmm." Still gazing down at me, his face drew closer. That warm, sincere expression he had worn earlier had returned. "I should have," he whispered.  
  
I could hear my heartbeat in my ears. *Oh, God, this is it,* I thought frantically. Laney or no Laney, there was no mistaking it: Rhodes was going to kiss me. And, strangely enough, I had no qualms about it. Out of nowhere, his words from my dream came back to me, repeating over and over in my head.  
  
"It's only a matter of time, Bridges..."  
  
I lay perfectly still, returning his gaze, as he dipped his head down. His wonderful green eyes slid slowly shut, his nose brushed against mine...  
  
...and then his head fell heavily on my shoulder, his face buried in my throat. Still holding me in his bridegroom embrace, his breathing came out evenly, and it took me an embarrassingly long time to figure out just what the hell had happened: Rhodes had fallen asleep. We were *millimeters* away from kissing, and he had fallen asleep.  
  
Biting back a curse, I reached up and turned off the floor lamp that stood behind the headboard. The shadows enveloped the room, and the only sound that reached my ears was the easy breathing of my sleeping friend. Sighing inconsolably, I rested my hand on Rhodes' back and traced a slow, lazy circle.  
  
"Pleasant dreams, my love," I whispered, staring up at the ceiling.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
A/N: *whips out her umbrella in self-defense and prepares to be pummeled with rotten fruit* Yes, I know, crappy ending for everyone who has been waiting ages for them to kiss. But don't worry, they will soon enough! And if you're still mad... just read the dream sequence over and over. Ahem! Well, hope you liked it despite its shortness and the cruel, cruel ending. I'm aware that I suck. Review please, and be gentle with me! Even though I don't deserve it! Ciao for now!  
  
Wakizashi  
  
tricksparrow@hotmail.com 


	5. Nadia's Evidence

A/N: Chapter five! Ugh. Took long enough, didn't it? Needless to say, I got many emails encouraging - and threatening - me to update. But here's the problem: I didn't have the Internet for a very long time, because every service we've ever had has been RETARDED! But even though I was without the Internet, I still kept writing. And now I'm back! So, flaming mice, eh? I have to say, that's a new one. Anyway, yeah, thank you all for your reviews; even the ones that were less than civil. Perfectly understandable! Okay, enough meaningless blathering. All I write is nonsense, anyway. Let's start chapter five, shall we? 

Disclaimer: I own Rhodes(haha!), Bridges, Laney, Solomon, and any other characters I may throw in there. 'The Dying Detective', however, is not mine. Thank Sir Doyle for that.

Down the Rabbit Hole

a modern Sherlock Holmes fanfiction by Wakizashi

Chapter Five: Nadia's Evidence

----

I awoke in sheer bliss.

At first I wasn't sure where I was. With my eyes closed, I was only aware of a warm, comforting presence beside me. And then, sluggishly, my other senses began to kick in. First to return to me was smell: the scent of clean skin and hair filled my nostrils, and I inhaled deeply. Next came sound. I became aware of the soothing, barely audible sound of another person breathing somewhere near my ear. The rhythmic noises were, oddly enough, perfectly in time with my heartbeat.

Finally I opened my eyes. The early morning light was muted, and it cast pale stripes across the big oak bed. I stared a while at those patches of light, distorted by the wrinkles in the bedclothes. Then my gaze shifted to the figure slumbering peacefully in the circle of my arms.

Ethan Nicholas Rhodes was the very picture of contentment. His shaggy head was tucked under my chin, and his full lips were parted just enough to allow his feather-soft breaths to flit across my neck. One white arm was draped lazily over my stomach, and I didn't have to pull back the covers to know that his long legs were entangled in mine.

If only I woke up like this every morning.

Exhaling a sigh of pure joy, I reached up and ran a hand through his soft dark hair. In response, he burrowed his face further into my neck, and as his uncomfortably warm skin touched mine, I was reminded of his illness. With another, less blissful sigh, I felt his forehead with the back of my hand. Was he ever going to get better?

As soon as my fingers brushed against his brow, Rhodes' bright green eyes fluttered open. They swiveled around in brief confusion, taking in our closer-than-usual proximity to each other, before becoming filled with recognition as he remembered the events of the previous night. His cheeks flushed slightly in embarrassment, and he chewed on his bottom lip, as if unsure what to say.

I smiled, deciding to relieve him of his discomfiture. "Hey," I said simply, removing my hand from his forehead.

He returned my smile, albeit a little sheepishly. "Good morning," he replied in a drowsy voice. He hesitated for a moment, then continued. "I'm... sorry about last night, Bridges. I'm afraid I didn't act with as much prudence as I should have."

"Come on, Rhodes," I gently chided. "Quit feeling so mortified about the whole thing. We both know you only did what you did because you were so cold." I chose to forget how livid I had been when he had fallen asleep, after coming so close to kissing me. "It's okay, really," I assured him. "I completely understand."

Rhodes simply stared at me, his eyebrows drawing together in distress. If I hadn't put the idea far from my mind, I would have sworn he almost looked guilty. "Do you?" he asked quietly.

I didn't exactly know how to answer, so instead I nodded slowly, slightly unsettled.

He cleared his throat, shifting his position restlessly. "Well then, I hope you don't mind, but I feel the irrepressible urge to take a shower. There's something about being ill that constantly makes one feel unclean."

"I know what you mean," I replied with a somewhat forced laugh. Boy, was this awkward. If only he had slept for just another five hours.

For all his talk about wanting a shower, Rhodes sure did lie there for a long time. It seemed to me as if he was uncomfortable with being so close to me, but not uncomfortable enough to leave. A disconcerting thought.

Finally I forced him into action by sitting up myself and swinging my legs over the side of the bed. "Guess I'll leave you to your own devices for a while," I said as I stood up, cringing as my bare feet touched the cold wood floor. "I'll be downstairs if you..." Good God, I almost said 'if you want me'. "If you need anything," I finished lamely.

Taking the hint to get his butt in gear, Rhodes climbed slowly out of bed, a little reluctant to leave his warm nest. He stood up and stretched his arms languidly over his head. Afterward he stood there for a moment, his brow creased in thought. "What day is it?" he asked.

His sincere question took me slightly aback. "December twenty-sixth," I answered cautiously. "Yesterday was Christmas, remember?" I frowned. "Are you okay?"

He blinked for a moment, then nodded. "Yes, I'm fine. My mind is a little fuzzy, is all."

Uh-oh, I thought. If his fever didn't go down soon, he could very well become delirious. The last time Rhodes had not been in control of his mental faculties was in the ambulance two years ago, the night he had been shot. I had no desire to be reminded of what it had been like.

"Rhodes, I don't know what's wrong with you, but whatever it is, I think it's getting worse," I said worriedly, to his visible annoyance. "In any case, you're not getting better. As much as it pains me to admit it, I think Laney's right. You need a doctor."

He closed his eyes and blew air out through his nostrils. "Don't start up with this again, Bridges, I beg you," he said irritably.

"I have no choice, Rhodes," I replied firmly, folding my arms over my chest. "Look at you! You're wracked with shivers, you can't keep anything down, and your fever hasn't broken. Normally I'd be happy to agree with your request, but you're not thinking clearly."

"You're overreacting," he retorted impatiently.

"No, I'm not," I said crossly. He was really ticking me off now. "For God's sake, you can't even remember what day it is, and you're trying to reason with me? I'm not overreacting, Rhodes. I'm just worried."

This remark was met by a long silence. I turned away from him, staring pointedly at the opposite wall. After a while I felt Rhodes come up behind me and place his hand on my shoulder. His touch was gentle, almost intimate. I shrugged it off angrily.

"Bridges, please," he said gently.

"No," I said in a low voice. "No, Rhodes. You always soothe me, to try to sucker me into getting you what you want. You take advantage of me, Rhodes, and I hate it. I'm not going to take it anymore."

I said it before I could stop myself. I said it, and I knew from the tone of his voice that it had cut him. "Is that really how you feel?" he asked. "That I take advantage of you?"

My jaw tightened. "Yes."

There was another silence, and then a whispered "Oh God, Bridges."

I said nothing in reply, and Rhodes drew in a ragged breath. He tried to touch my shoulder again, but I jerked it off instantly. "For God's sake, Bridges, don't cringe from me like I have leprosy," he said beseechingly. "Will you please look at me?"

I didn't move, but I allowed Rhodes to turn me around to face him, though I remained as stiff as a wooden doll. As I raised my gaze to his, I was shocked and even alarmed by what I saw in his eyes. He looked heartbroken; almost to the point of being physically injured. "Bridges," he said in an unsteady voice. "You're my closest friend; my only true friend. I would never deliberately hurt you. If I did... I would want to die."

At this I felt a large obstruction in my throat. Never had I met a man who valued his friends as much as Rhodes did; it was probably because his friends had been so rare in his life. It made me feel sick after what I had said to him, after how I had made him feel. But it was true, the way he treated me sometimes. If he wanted something, or wanted me to change my opinion, all he had to do was turn on the charm. It usually worked, and I was tired of caving in.

But his dejected words brought tears to my eyes. I could tell he was sincere; he didn't mean to hurt me.

"Oh, Rhodes," I said with a defeated sigh. "I know you didn't do it on purpose."

With what could only be called relief, Rhodes held out his arms, and I let him draw me into his embrace. I smiled and rested my head against his chest, feeling the warmth of his skin through his gray cotton shirt. With one hand on the small of my back, long fingers splayed, he reached up with his other hand and stroked my hair. "I'm sorry," he murmured.

I craned my neck to smile up at him. "I know," I answered.

Brushing my hair away from my face, Rhodes leaned down and pressed his lips to my forehead. My eyes fluttered closed involuntarily, and when I opened them his face was still close to mine. His long lashes could not conceal the longing that darkened his eyes. Slowly, he leaned in again and kissed my temple, and then my cheek, dangerously close to the corner of my mouth.

With each kiss it became harder for me to remember that he already had a girlfriend. She was an annoying, snotty, manipulative girlfriend, but a girlfriend nonetheless. And seconds before those warm, searching lips found their way to mine, logic returned, and I pushed Rhodes away.

"I can't," I said, my voice sounding hoarse. His heart was pounding under my hand. "What about Laney?"

"What about her?" he asked dumbly. Then reality came crashing down around him, and he stepped back abruptly, his pale face flushed with humiliation. He took a deep breath, passing his hands over his face. "I'm so sorry, Bridges, good God. I don't know what I was thinking." He avoided my gaze, as if ashamed to make eye contact. "I can't believe what I was doing; what I almost did." He shook his head violently. "I... I-it must be the fever. You're right, Bridges. I'm not thinking clearly."

"No, now you're just rambling," I replied shakily, still trying to calm my own heart.

Rhodes reached out to touch my shoulder, but thought better of it and folded his hands under his arms. "I'm really very sorry," he said, though his apology was directed to his feet rather than at me.

"It's okay," I told him. My nervousness was gradually being replaced with a kind of numbness. "Just don't have a girlfriend the next time you get my hopes up."

At this his head snapped up sharply, and he stared at me with wide eyes. "What?"

I shook my head. "Go take a shower," I said flatly. "And make it a cold one."

Embarrassed and dejected and badly confused, Rhodes did as he was told. As he stepped past me, his arm brushed against mine, and the contact was pure electricity. I tried to ignore it, but it was impossible. It was obvious that Rhodes noticed it as well; he lingered there for a moment before continuing out the door, leaving me to stew in my own misery.

----

This is all his fault, I thought a little childishly as I sat on the floor in the middle of the living room, listening to the water running in the bathroom above me. However childish, though, it was true: if Rhodes hadn't dropped this bombshell on me about a new girlfriend - who had nothing in common with him, by the way - I probably would have already confessed my feelings... Okay, my love for him.

But now, thanks to this third wheel that had flounced her way into our lives, that was no longer an option. I was going to either have to watch them get married or wait until Rhodes figured out that he was making a huge mistake.

Or did he already know? I wondered, frowning. Upstairs, when he had all but started making out with me, he hadn't even been thinking about Laney. What kind of a guy would completely disregard how his girlfriend might feel about him being too friendly with another woman, unless he didn't have feelings for his girlfriend? And if that was the case, why was he even with her?

Would someone please tell me what was going on?

As I was in the process of trying to figure out what exactly I was missing, the doorbell rang. Cringing at the thought that it might be Laney, I briefly considered climbing out the kitchen window, but I wasn't too keen about landing in the juniper bushes below. I was relieved, however, when I heard a familiar and not unwelcome voice outside the door.

"Rhodes! Hey! You alive in there?"

I smiled wryly at the coarse voice and stood up, noticing I wasn't very appropriately dressed for the season. Then I decided I was too grumpy to care, and I went to the door and swung it open. "Morning, Ed," I said dully.

FBI Agent Edward Solomon raised his grizzled eyebrows at my presence. "Nadia," he returned, trying to appear inconspicuous about staring at my legs and failing miserably. "Glad to see you got all gussied up for me."

"Any time," I replied, giving him a sour look.

"So," he continued, easing his pudgy frame past me into the foyer, "how's the kid? Is he doing any better?"

I shook my head as I closed the door against the frigid weather outside. "Nope, no improvement, and won't you come in?" There was a sarcastic quality to my voice, but in truth I was almost glad to see the balding FBI agent. He wasn't bad, if you looked past the incompetence, lewdness, and abrasive personality. Besides, at this point I welcomed any distraction, good or bad.

I encouraged him to take a seat, and Solomon wedged himself into the papasan chair by the window. As he reached forward to fiddle with one of the coasters on the coffee table, I took a seat on the futon couch. "Is that why you came here?" I asked him. "To see if Rhodes was feeling better?"

Solomon gave a noncommittal cough in reply, and I smiled knowingly. "Ah, I see. A repeat incident of your visit to the hospital after his injury."

"Cut it out," he growled, and I obediently shut up. "Where is he, anyway?"

"Upstairs, taking a shower." Solomon merely nodded in response. Two years ago, I would have expected him to say something like, "Why aren't you in there with him?" After it became clear that Rhodes and I were friends and nothing more, however, he finally stopped holding on to the belief that we were having a hot, steamy love affair.

"The other reason I stopped by," he said with an amused expression on his face, "was to see if Rhodes hadn't driven you crazy yet. You probably don't know this, but he got laryngitis a couple years before you moved here and refused to see a doctor. He couldn't even talk, and he still drove me nuts." He snickered at the remembrance.

I snorted. "Yeah, sounds just like what he's doing now. If anything, his condition has drastically declined, and he still won't let me call a doctor." I leaned forward and rested my chin on my hands. "He's really starting to irritate me. I can't figure out what his problem is."

"Stubborn, that's what." Solomon set down the coaster and looked at me carefully. "But it seems to me that's not what's bugging you."

"What are you babbling about?" I asked derisively.

"Come on, Nadia," he said, unfazed. "You're as transparent as a plate glass window. I can tell something's got you down, and it sure as hell ain't got nothing to do with Rhodes' sickness."

Despite his terrible grammar, Solomon sure knew what he was talking about. I sighed and shook my head. "Your ability to read my countenance is uncanny, Ed. But I'm not sure I feel comfortable talking to you about this."

"Oh, you mean about your thing for Rhodes?"

I sat up instantly, my back ramrod-straight, and then realized with a surge of fury that Solomon had not been serious in his guess. And I had just blown my cover. My cheeks burned with embarrassment as the agent slapped his knee, howling with laughter.

"Aw, damn, I was just kidding!" he exclaimed, clearly pleased with his own bit of deduction. "Well well, the truth comes out. Can't say it comes as a total surprise."

"And what is that supposed to mean?" I asked defensively.

Solomon gave me a look that was disturbingly similar to that of a disappointed parent. "Please, kid, what do you think it means?" he said dryly. "You think I haven't noticed that in the two years that you and Rhodes have been partners, you haven't gone out on a single date? I'd say that's some indication of your feelings for him." Damn. He had a point there. "Why don't you just tell him? What do you got to lose?"

"Oh, I don't know, the best thing that's ever happened to me in my life," I snapped with a bitterness I hardly thought myself capable of. Then I sighed and shook my head. "I'm sorry, it's just... I was going to tell him. And then he went and got a girlfriend." I felt my eye twitch. "Can you imagine the nerve of him, telling me to meet him at the place we first met to introduce me to that little fakey... phony... fraud? God, what was he thinking? I would never--"

"Whoa, whoa, hey, back up a second," said Solomon, interrupting my tirade. "Rhodes has a girlfriend? When did this happen? Who is she?"

Apparently everyone else was as shocked at this sudden development as I was. "Her name is Gislaine LeFavre. She's a spoiled, manipulative brat and I have no idea what Rhodes sees in her. I can't even - what? What's wrong with you?"

Solomon's face had taken on a look of rare contemplation. "LeFavre," he repeated, his heavy brows knitted. "Where have I heard that name before?" Suddenly he snapped his fingers. "That's right! That case, three years ago. Gerard LeFavre. I think his daughter's name was Gislaine."

"And Laney for short?" I asked, leaning forward.

"Yeah, Laney LeFavre! She was pretty smokin'."

Choosing to ignore this, I said, "What do you remember about the case? What was LeFavre on trial for? How was Rhodes involved?"

"Keep the questions to one at a time, okay?" he replied irritably. "To answer your first question, I remember everything. This guy, Gerard LeFavre, was a big-time loan shark. People would come to him for hundreds of thousands, millions even, and he'd give it to them, no questions asked. But if they didn't come up with the money to reimburse him... well, let's just say he'd find other ways of making them pay."

"Like what?" I asked, repelled and interested at the same time.

Solomon scratched the back of his head uncomfortably. "Oh, he had a lot of methods. Took one guy's thumbs, burned another one's eyes out. I remember something about someone's pet dog being nailed to their front door. But mostly he prefered to do mutilations of... of the sexual kind."

My hand shot up involuntarily to cover my mouth. "Oh my God. That's awful."

"Yeah. Well, then one of the unfortunates' family members asked Rhodes to help catch him. He actually went in undercover and asked LeFavre for a loan himself. Got a taped statement of the guy saying what he'd do to Rhodes if he didn't pay him back."

I gaped at him, wondering why Rhodes had never told me any of this. I had thought that we were best friends, but apparently there were still things that he kept from me.

"Anyway, that was enough for an arrest warrant. And taped confessions are very persuasive in a courtroom. LeFavre was sentenced to seventy years without parole. You should have seen the way he looked at Rhodes when he found out he was a detective. Enough to scare a grown man like me."

"So that's what Laney meant when she said that Rhodes was the one who put her father in prison," I said pensively. "That guy must be stewing in his cell right now, imagining a thousand different ways to kill Rhodes."

"No, I'm pretty sure he's not." I raised an eyebrow at the agent, confused. "He's dead," he explained.

"What?" He nodded. "Are you serious? When did he die?"

"Just a couple of months ago, during a prison riot. He was holding a guard hostage, threatening to strangle him if they didn't let him go. One of the snipers took him out."

"Holy crap," I muttered, shivering despite the sweltering heat of the condo. "Laney must have been crushed..." Abruptly, my eyes widened. "Laney."

Solomon blinked. "Huh?"

It couldn't be coincidence. Everything was just too conventient. I squeezed my eyes shut, going over the sequence of events in my head. Rhodes sends Laney's father to prison. Laney's father is recently killed in prison. And now Rhodes and Laney are seeing each other. What reason could she possibly have for dating the man indirectly responsible for her father's death?

The answer was clear: revenge.

"Oh, God," I groaned, feeling the overwhelming urge to throw up.

"What? What's the matter?" Solomon was saying.

Suddenly I heard from above the sound of water being shut off. "Ed, you have to go," I said, standing up. "Right now. I'm sorry, but I really, really have to talk to Rhodes."

"Oh-ho," he replied with a devilish smirk as he hauled himself up out of the papasan chair. "Going to tell him the big news despite the fact that he's already seeing someone, huh? Don't worry, I won't stick around and cramp your style."

"No, no, that's not it at all," I said impatiently. I shot a quick glance up the stairs to make sure we were alone. "I think Rhodes is in danger."

----

A/N: Oookay, I hope that made up for the bajillion years that I was not able to update. It probably didn't, at ALL, but hey, at least not having the Internet didn't make me bitter, and make me stop writing. Can't stop writing, NEVER stop writing! Ahem. Anyway, at last there's actually some suspense in my story. I think lately it's been too much of the romance, and not enough of the mystery. Not that romance is bad, or that I don't enjoy writing it, but obviously, this story is in the Sherlock Holmes section, and therefore MUST have mystery.

So... if you're not too mad at me for going on hiatus, you can leave me a review. But I don't blame you if you don't.

-Wakizashi


	6. The Queen of Hearts

A/N: Holy _ess_, you guys are awesome! I can't believe you're not mad at me for not updating for an eternity. And thank you _so_ much for all your reviews. You're too nice. I'm actually kind of tearing up right now, so let's get this moving. Chapter six, woopah!

Disclaimer: Although I own all the characters, I can claim absolutely no credit for the plot, despite what little embellishments I've made. Sir Arthur Conan Doyle is the true author of 'The Dying Detective'.

----

Down the Rabbit Hole

a modern Sherlock Holmes fanfiction

by Wakizashi

Chapter Six: The Queen of Hearts

----

"Of all ruins, that of a noble mind is the most deplorable."

- John H. Watson, M.D.

----

"Rhodes! Come on, Rhodes, hurry up!" I shouted, my words puncuated by the sound of my fists hammering against the bathroom door. I felt physically ill with dread. "Rhodes, _please_ hurry up, I need to talk to you!"

The door swung inward, and a thick cloud of steam wafted out, dampening my clothes. Rhodes stood irately in the doorway, his hair dripping and his shirt on backwards. "All right, Bridges," he said, his accent much stronger, as it usually was when he was annoyed. "What was it that was too important to wait for me to dress myself properly?"

I ignored his sarcasm as he withdrew him arms into his shirt and threaded them through their correct sleeves. "I'm sorry, but Ed Solomon stopped by while you were in the shower."

"Solomon?" Rhodes looked blank. "That's the urgent thing you needed to tell me?"

"_No_, that's not it," I replied, exasperated. "But while he was here, he told me about that case of yours three years ago. The one involving Laney's father."

He rose a black eyebrow. "Did he," he said evenly, walking past me into his bedroom. He seemed remarkably unconcerned. I followed him, pouring him a glass of water from the pitcher on the table as he sat down weakly on his bed.

"Yes, he did, and he also told me what happened to Laney's father." My gaze locked onto his as I handed him the glass. "He told me he was killed in a prison riot only two months ago." Rhodes gave no reply. "Why didn't you tell me?" I asked quietly.

He patted the bed next to him, and I took a seat. He took a long drink of water, then sighed with a shrug of his shoulders. "I don't know, Bridges, I suppose..." He exhaled heavily, as if he was short of breath. "I suppose it's because I don't enjoy thinking about the past, about my life before I met you. And I certainly don't enjoy talking about it."

I shook my head. "But the past is part of the present." He snorted. "What? Don't look at me like that. It's not just a tired old turn of phrase. You can't choose to forget something that's a piece of your life. Gerard LeFavre was a horrible man, and he deserved what he got. But still, he would probably be alive if you hadn't helped send him to prison." Rhodes gazed at me silently, his face unreadable. "And I'm afraid that Laney might feel the same way," I said in a low voice.

At this his expression grew guarded. "What are you talking about, Bridges?" he asked, his eyebrows drawn together.

I took a deep breath. God, this was hard. "Look. In the two years I've known you, I've learned how to put facts together, how to recognize danger. You taught me never to disregard something as seemingly insignificant as a hunch. Well, I have one now." _Just say it, woman!_ I screamed in my head. "Rhodes, I don't think Laney is what she appears to be."

To my surprise, Rhodes smiled at me. "Well, I can definitely see I've taught you a little too well," he said, jokingly nudging my shoulder with his.

I frowned. "Rhodes, I'm serious. I think there's something going on in that woman's head that we don't know about, that we don't _want_ to know about. You could be in danger."

He emptied his glass and shook his head. "Bridges, all our time working together has made you paranoid," he said, gently but firmly. "Not everyone has a sinister motive behind their actions. Laney was never attached to her father, and she was mortified by the things he did. She was all too relieved to see him behind bars."

"But after he died?" I pressed. "What about then? How do you _know_ it didn't affect her to learn that her own father had been killed? She could have let it brew and fester in her mind until she could think of nothing but vengeance. Vengeance on the person that put her father in prison in the first place."

"Bridges, I _know_ Laney," Rhodes insisted, becoming visibly impatient. "She doesn't harbor such debased thoughts."

"How?" I asked angrily. "_How_ do you know? Nobody knows what secrets people keep, deep down in their hearts. Laney's father _just_ died. And now she's dating _you_. Isn't it obvious what she's trying to do?" I scoffed. "God, I would have thought that _you_, of all people, wouldn't allow their feelings for someone to get in the way of pure logic."

Rhodes stood up indignantly, towering over me. "My _feelings_ have nothing to do with it," he said in a biting voice. "And I do not appreciate my intelligence being insulted, Bridges, when your own thinking ability might be the one that needs to be considered."

Oh, that hurt. Rhodes and I had gotten into arguments before, but he had _never_ openly insulted me. I felt like I had been stabbed. "You must really be blind," I said in a low, calm voice, rising slowly to my feet. "Don't you see that Laney has polluted your mind? She's got you wrapped around her perfect, manicured little finger - got you thinking everything she wants you to think, to the point that you would ignore the advice of your _best_ friend."

"God, Bridges, if only you could hear yourself--"

"No, you should hear yourself, Rhodes! You sound absolutely, stark raving mad! Any idiot can see that you have nothing in common with that phony little primadonna. She's practically the opposite of everything you are. And may I remind you, she was the furthest thing from your mind earlier this morning, when you, shall we say, got a little carried away with your affection."

Rhodes' green eyes literally burned with humiliation and anger. "Now you know I wasn't thinking clearly, Bridges," he said defensively.

"Oh, and you're thinking clearly now?" I asked scornfully. "I don't understand you, Rhodes. If you care so much about me, why do you ignore me every time I try to help you?"

"Because I never _asked_ you to help me!" he shouted.

The silence following this statement was deafening.

I felt a tear roll down my cheek, and I wiped it roughly away.

"Well, if you don't need me," I said softly, "then I guess I'll leave."

And I left.

----

And I didn't come back for a very long time. I didn't call him. I didn't even pick up the phone when his number came up on the caller ID. I didn't want to see him, I didn't want to hear his voice, I didn't even want to _think_ about him. He had hurt me; he had _scarred_ me. And I couldn't forgive him.

I still loved Rhodes. Somehow, I still loved him. He had saved my life, had stepped in front of a bullet for me; how could I not love him? But I knew now that he didn't need me. He had _never_ needed me. How had I fooled myself into believing that he did?

And despite myself, I did think about him. I loved him, I raged at him, I worried about him. I worried what might happen to him, whether his illness might progress, or whether Laney might do something to him. But I didn't tell him. What good would it do? He wouldn't have listened to a word I said.

Three days went by, then four. The phone calls from Rhodes stopped. One day, Laney came to my apartment. She told me that Rhodes was getting worse, and that he was becoming delirious. She pleaded with me to go see him. She told me that Rhodes kept asking about me, and saying that he was sorry for being so harsh with me.

I told her to tell him that I was sorry to disappoint him.

On the 31st of December I was invited by one of my fellow massage therapists to come to a New Year's Eve party, and to "bring your cute friend Rhodes with you." I told her he wasn't feeling well, and that I didn't feel like going out. She said she hoped Rhodes would feel better soon.

That evening, as I was making pasta while half-watching "Dick Clark's New Year's Rockin' Eve", I found a small, plain envelope while I was looking for the remote control. Frowning, I opened it and pulled out a brochure for Crystal Peaks Ski Resort and Lodge in Lake Tahoe, Nevada. Carefully tucked inside was a photograph of a stunning Appaloosa mare that was with foal. The foal that would be mine after it was born.

An agonized sob escaped me, and I slumped down onto my sagging couch. Rhodes had done so much for me. I had come to San Francisco friendless, and he had taken me under his wing. He had made me whole. He may not have needed me, but I needed him.

Turning off the stove and the television, I pulled on my shoes and coat and walked out the door. I raced down the stairs out onto the street, waving my arms maniacally for a taxi. The detail about Rhodes having a girlfriend, which had seemed like such an enormous obstacle, was now meaningless. I had to tell him how I felt about him.

----

Tossing my fare to the taxi driver and hastily wishing him a Happy New Year, I stepped out into the frigid night and made my way up to the ornate iron gate that led into the quartet of brick buildings beyond. I walked inside, the gate squealing on its hinges, and stole across the courtyard, past the bald trees and silent fountain.

Racing up the steps to the front door of Number 3, I knocked and, getting no response, I tried the brass handle. It was locked, but I knew by the light in the upstairs window that the condo wasn't empty. Feeling unsettlingly like a cat burglar, I fished a keyring out of my purse and turned the copy Rhodes had made for me in the lock. I opened the door and stepped noiselessly into the dark living room, searching for the man I so dearly loved.

My heart pounding, I climbed the stairs and crept down the hall to his bedroom. A shaft of light was shining through a thin crack in the door, and I peered inside. Good: Laney was nowhere to be seen. I knocked lightly, and the door eased open.

Rhodes was lying in bed under the dim circle of light cast by an overhead lamp. His eyes, ringed by dark circles, were shining with fever and delirium, his face was unshaven, and his hair hung limp across his forehead. In his hands was an old book: 'Alice's Adventures Underground'. He was not reading it, but clutching it against his chest and staring listlessly into space.

As I entered, he looked at me and laid the book aside. "Bridges?" he said, his voice alarmingly faint.

In an instant I was kneeling at his bedside, my vision blurred with tears. I grabbed his cold, clammy hands in mine and brought them to my lips, kissing them again and again. I had prepared an entire speech to confess my feelings for him, and had gone over it a thousand times in my head. But at the sight of him, at the feel of his skin, all words fled from my mouth.

"Bridges," he murmured, stroking my face with his long fingers. "I'm so, so sorry."

I bent forward and laid my head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat, to the rhythm of his breathing. He rubbed my back, ran his fingers through my hair.

"I've been such a fool, Bridges," he said weakly. "I don't know why I let you think that I don't need you." He felt so frail underneath me. "I do need you," he breathed, his voice breaking as he wrapped an arm around me and held me tightly. "Ohhh, I need you _so_ much, baby."

Tears streamed down my cheeks, and he brushed them gently away. "You will never know how much I need you, Nadia Lynn Bridges," he whispered. "I need you more than anyone else on this planet could possibly need you. I would not be here if it weren't for you."

Swallowing a feeling of apprehension, I looked up at him. He had a very grave expression on his face. "Before I met you," he said quietly, his hand moving slowly up and down my back, "I had no joy, no meaning in my life. My parents, my sister, were dead. I had to live every day with the knowledge that I was responsible for Alice's death. I..." His breath hitched in his throat. "I was going to kill myself."

I stared at him, aghast. It felt as if an icy hand had closed around my heart and had frozen the blood in my veins. I was too stunned even for tears. All my life, I had always thought of suicide as the coward's way out. But Rhodes had been so miserable that he had decided that dying would be better than living with his guilt. He must have felt so hopeless.

Then the realization hit me. If he had gone through with it, I would never have given him a second thought. I would never have gotten to know him, how wonderful and kind and generous he was. I would never have fallen in love with him. And I would never have known the difference.

Slowly, my head dropped against his chest again, and I began sobbing painfully.

"I had it all planned, the sleeping pills, everything," he continued over the sound of my weeping. "I knew no one would miss me, no one would care. And then I met you."

I was choking on my tears.

"Shhh, it's all right, baby," Rhodes whispered, his hand cupped against my cheek.

Getting up off the floor, I kicked off my shoes and crawled into bed beside him, clinging to his neck and entwining my legs in his. I cried into his shirt, and he held me patiently, tenderly, as he waited for my tears to subside. Eventually they did, and I was hit instead with a sudden overwhelming rush of affection, and gratitude to have him here with me. I placed my hands on both sides of his head, my fingers buried in his shaggy hair, and I kissed his sweat-slicked forehead, speaking for the first time since entering the room.

"I love you," I whispered.

His fevered eyes fluttered shut. When he opened them, he was smiling. "I love you, too."

My heart leapt into my throat at his words. He loved me. God in heaven, Ethan Rhodes loved me. I could have sprouted wings and flown out the window and over the city if I wanted to. But for the moment, all I wanted was to lie here in this crazy Van Gogh room in the arms of the most kind, unbearable, lonely, stubborn, wonderful, precious man I had ever known. And now, finally, I could.

After a long while, it could have been minutes or hours, Rhodes spoke to me. "I wish I could have said all this earlier," he mumbled feverishly, his face buried in my throat. I stroked his hair reassuringly. "Wish that... I could have had more time with you."

My hand froze in place.

"Two years... doesn't seem all that long, does it?" he continued deliriously, unaware that I had stopped breathing. "We're both so young, after all..."

"Rhodes," I said in a strangled voice. "What are you talking about?"

He sighed. "I was hoping to spend the rest of my life with you. But now... I'm not sure... how much longer that will be."

There was that icy cold hand again, ready to freeze my heart in my chest. _No way this is happening_, I thought fiercely. _Not now._ "Please, Rhodes, don't talk like that," I choked out, holding my hand to the back of his neck. "It really upsets me."

"I'm sorry," he murmured weakly, rubbing my back soothingly. "I don't mean to. It's just... There were so many things I wanted to do with you... So many things I wanted us to share." His voice was becoming fainter by the minute. "I... I wanted us to get married... to have children... We could have redecorated the spare bedroom..." He chuckled feebly. "Little... cowboys and horses everywhere."

"Shut up, Rhodes," I sobbed, clutching his shirt in my fists.

"Oh, Bridges." He lifted his head with a great effort and, whispering reassurances, began kissing me all over; my forehead, my eyes, my jawline, my throat. His breathing became quicker, heavier.

"Oh, _Bridges_," he said again, in an entirely different tone.

I had been waiting an eternity for this moment. And now, the moment had become so bittersweet that I could hardly bear it. Rhodes swept my hair back from my face, bent down until his lips were inches from mine. His nose brushed lightly against mine, and he released a shaky sigh and leaned forward.

And then a volley of furious knocking drifted up to our ears from below.

"Ethan? Ethan, it's me, Laney! I know you are awake in there!"

A string of florid curses flowed through my mind, and to my surprise I heard Rhodes utter a sharp profanity of his own. It was the first time in the history of our relationship that I had known him to swear. In his mouth, it sounded like a different language. "Did you lock the door behind you when you came?" he asked quietly.

I cringed. "No," I replied.

"She'll be coming up here any minute," he said to himself darkly. Suddenly he grabbed my arms with a strength that shocked me, considering his weakened condition. "Bridges, you've got to get out of here, right now."

"What?" I could hardly believe my ears. He really was delirious. "No, Rhodes, I'm not leaving you alone with her--"

"Then you've got to hide somewhere, before she sees you!" His eyes, which had been glassy and distant before, were now perfectly clear. "Please, Bridges, if you trust me, if you _love_ me, you'll do as I ask!"

He was wild with fear. I had no idea what had so moved him. But I did trust him, and I did love him. Kissing him briefly on the forehead, I climbed off the bed and scanned the room quickly, looking for a place to hide. I heard the front door open downstairs, and without thinking, I dove under the bed and crawled as far back as I could, barely remembering to pull my shoes under with me.

"Don't move, Bridges," Rhodes whispered above me. "Don't make any noise. No matter what happens, do _not_ come out unless I tell you."

Despite my confusion, I began to feel a growing dread. Delirious or not, Rhodes never did anything without good reason. Perhaps there was reason for his alarm now.

I felt the floor shake slightly beneath me, and I knew Laney was coming up the stairs. The footsteps were coming closer now, and as I breathed the dusty air through my nose, trying desperately not to sneeze, I heard the door creak open.

"Laney," Rhodes said weakly, as I watched a pair of high heels come toward the bed. "What are you doing here?"

I heard an overly exasperated sigh. "I came to see how you are feeling, silly," she replied good-humoredly. "So? How _are_ you feeling?"

Rhodes sounded so faint, so exhausted, when he answered her. "I... I'm not... I don't... Not good," he ended, out of breath.

"I'm glad to hear it," Laney said calmly. My head shot up, and I almost hit it on the bed above me. "Because you are certainly taking a long time to die."

----

A/N: "Hello. My name is Gislaine LeFavre. You killed my father. Prepare to die." Sorry, I had to do it. But oh man, this was the hardest chapter I've ever had to write, for any story. I got teary-eyed about fifty times, and I was the one writing it. But it's definitely the best chapter I've written, in my history of writing dumb little stories. Ohhh, jeez. Wow. I don't even care if no one agrees with me, I loved it. I loved every word of it. My personal favorite part was when Rhodes called Bridges "baby". It seemed, at least to me, like he had wanted to say it forever. But you don't have to listen to me rant about my own work. Leave a review, please, and tell me what you thought. What was your favorite part? What was your least favorite? Tell me everything. I hope it moved you as much as it moved me. And now, off I go to write chapter seven.

-Wakizashi


	7. A Mad Tea Party

A/N: Chapter seven? Already? My, how the time... doesn't fly at all. I'm glad you guys are still with me on this thing. You know, I was thinking something the other day. Sherlock Holmes fans are _by far_ the sweetest and most loyal of reviewers out of all the fans here at FFNet. And here's why: there are so few of us out there in the world, and especially at FFNet, that we all stick close together. That, and we all share a common bond - our undying love for the Great Detective. Naturally. Anyway, enough of my babbling. Here's chappy seven.

Disclaimer: "Down the Rabbit Hole" and its characters belong to me, but "The Dying Detective" and the literary characters I've embellished on belong to Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. So please nobody sue me. I have no money anyway.

----

Down the Rabbit Hole

a modern Sherlock Holmes fanfiction

by Wakizashi

Chapter Seven: A Mad Tea Party

----

Peek in, sneak about

I'm gonna snoop and call you out

I caught you, your hands are red

Now I'm your broken-hearted detective

-No Doubt, "Detective"

----

Oh, what thoughts of violence filled my head at those words.

"You are certainly taking a long time to die."

It all made sense now: why Rhodes, who usually never got sick, became ill shortly after meeting Laney; why she had kissed him on that first day of his illness. She had known, that early, that he wasn't contagious. Because she had known that his illness was not an ordinary one. Everything was clear to me now.

Why, _why_ hadn't Rhodes believed me? I had tried to tell him that he couldn't trust Laney, tried to warn him that there was more to her than either of us knew about. But he hadn't listened. Why did he have to be so stubborn?

I heard Rhodes clear his throat awkwardly. "I... I beg your pardon?" he asked, sounding genuinely confused.

Laney's expensively shod feet came toward one of the wooden chairs in the corner, pulled it up to the bed. "You were not this weak a few days ago," she observed as she sat down, throwing one leg primly over the other. "Were you? You were not so thin, or so short of breath. You do not think perhaps you are getting better, _n'est-ce pas?_"

Rhodes made no reply. I could hear his labored breathing, and I could barely restrain myself from crawling out of my hiding place and coming to his aid. But I remembered what he had told me, and I stayed put.

"I brought you something, _chére_," said Laney, and I heard the unmistakable sound of a zipper: she had unzipped her purse. She pulled something out and place it on the little table. "I thought you might be hungry, so I brought you some tea in a thermos, and biscuits. I made the biscuits myself. Would you like some? No? Then I will have some."

There was a sound of liquid being poured out into a cup. "Mmm, I love this tea," she said happily, sniffing it deeply. "Do you know, these biscuits are from an old cookbook which my family has had for generations. They are the perfect compliment for this tea. Well, the way I _usually_ make them, at any rate," she added with a little laugh. There was a pause, and I could almost see her raise the cup to Rhodes. "_À votre santé._"

_To your health._

I heard a clatter as she set down her cup. "But surely, Ethan," Laney said conversationally, "you have seen these biscuits before? Don't you remember?"

"I... I'm afraid I don't know what you mean." Rhodes sounded completely bewildered, but I felt the hair on the back of my neck stand on end, felt a rising dread.

"But of course you do! Think very carefully, Ethan." There was a short silence, and Laney sighed impatiently. "Of course, _chére_, you are delirious. Then I will help you remember. It was only two weeks ago. There was a package for you that came in the mail, was there not? A thank-you gift from one of your former clients."

Abruptly, my dread blossomed into gut-wrenching horror. Of course. Rhodes may have been too weak and flustered to recall, but I definitely did. I clearly remembered seeing an open box of butter cookies lying on his kitchen table. I had reached out to snatch one, as I was always welcome to help myself at his place, but I had nearly suffered a fatal heart attack as Rhodes seized my wrist in a vise-like grip. I had been more than a little miffed as he had told me they were a gift from a client over a recent case of his, and I remember wondering why he hadn't bothered telling me about it.

So that was how she had done it.

If only Rhodes hadn't let his guard down; if _only_ he had listened to the advice he had given me and trusted his instincts. Maybe he wouldn't be lying here in bed, helpless, at the mercy of this deeply disturbed woman. And maybe I wouldn't be hiding down here, unable to assist him, to do anything but listen to this mad conversation.

"Yes, they were from a very grateful client," Laney continued, her dainty foot bobbing up and down. "And these were very special biscuits. I suppose you are familiar with the poinsettia plant? Of course you are, they are everywhere at Christmas time. Maybe people do not know this, but poinsettias are very poisonous."

_Oh, God,_ I thought, suppressing a groan.

"The symptoms are very much the same as with nightshade. Have you heard of nightshade, _chére_? Well, poinsettias contain a kind of poison called a corrosive. They destroy the body's tissues, starting with the stomach. Vomiting occurs almost right away, and sometimes it is mixed with blood. I hope you have not been vomiting blood, have you, Ethan?"

Rhodes mumbled something I didn't catch, and apparently neither did Laney. "What was that, Ethan?" she asked.

"It... it was you," he repeated accusingly.

She let out a high, bell-like laugh. "Well, of course it was, silly!" she exclaimed. "You did not think it was just coincidence, did you? Becoming so sick so close to when we met." She clucked her tongue disapprovingly. "I thought you were a detective, Ethan. But it seems that you are not as smart as everyone thinks you are."

This was like a nightmare. How could she so freely admit to poisoning someone, like it was nothing? Ohh, I wanted to kill her. I wanted to reach out, grab her foot, pull her off that chair, and then beat her with it. But Rhodes had told me not to move, not to make a _sound_. And, idiot that I was, I always did what he told me.

I listened as Laney refilled her cup with the tea she had brought. "Come, won't you have just a tiny bite? You have my word that they are not poisoned." She giggled. "Now why on earth would I be eating them if they were?"

Rhodes gave no response.

"_Eat it!_" she suddenly shouted, causing the bed to jostle as Rhodes flinched. There was a rustle as he evidently reached out and took a biscuit from her; I could hear him chewing weakly.

"You see? Delicious, _non?_" she said, not a trace of fury left in her voice. God, she really was insane. "You know, your body is very... what is the word? Resilient? Yes, very resilient. Those biscuits would have been enough to kill most anyone in less than three days. But of course, you just had to be stubborn."

Boy, didn't I know it.

"But the wonderful thing about the poison contained in the poinsettia plant is that the damage caused in the body is cumulative. That means, of course, it gets worse over time. Considering how much time has passed, you do not have much longer, Ethan."

I stifled a bitter sob. It was true. God, as much as I hated her, what she said was true. Rhodes hadn't just been delirious when he had ranted about how he wished we could have had more time together, how there had been so many things he had wanted us to share. He really was dying.

_Somebody kill me, too,_ I thought, squeezing my eyes shut against a flood of tears.

Rhodes was gasping with fear and pain. "Get me... to the hospital," he choked out.

Laney stood up and laughed mockingly at him. "Do you really think that doctors can save you now? Oh, _chére_, it is a little too late for that. Just as it was too late for doctors to save Donald Wernick, the guard who shot my father."

I felt my heart leap up into my throat. What was this about a guard? Abruptly, the answer was crystal-clear: Laney had poisoned that sniper, the one who had killed Gerard LeFavre. And she had gotten away with it.

_No,_ I thought, my grief melting away and being replaced by a burning rage. She would _not_ get away with killing him. And she would not get away with killing the man I loved. I would personally see that she would pay.

"If you... get an ambulance," Rhodes wheezed, "I'll forget about it... I'll forget that you killed Wernick... that you poisoned me. Just... get me help... please..."

"Oh, Ethan, you are making me sad," Laney replied, in a most un-sad voice. "It pains me that you believe you have that option. You cannot very well testify against me if you are dead. And you will be, very soon. No, I am afraid it is far too late to get you help; or at least, any earthly help. _Aide-toi, le ciel t'aidera._" _Help yourself, and heaven will help you._

Rhodes groaned. "Bridges..."

My pulse quickened. Did he want me to come out? Or was he just calling for me in his delirium? _Just give me the word, Rhodes, and I'll ram that chair down her throat,_ I thought, my fists clenching.

Laney snickered disdainfully. "No, not even your precious Nadia can save you now," she said. "I turned you against each other, remember? Now she hates you, and she will not come. Even if she did, she is too thick to connect me with your illness."

"She warned me... about you..."

"Oh, did she?" she asked, disgust creeping into her voice. "Perhaps she is not so stupid as I thought. Not so stupid as you, anyway. No matter. I suppose I will have to kill her, too."

"Laney," Rhodes whispered, so faintly I could barely hear him.

"Yes, _chére_, what is it? Do you have some famous last words?"

She leaned forward.

"_Go to Hell_," he said in a low voice, strong and shockingly spiteful.

There was a stunned silence. "What is this?" Laney breathed incredulously.

"Now, Bridges!" he yelled.

Without a second thought, I thrust out a hand, seized one of Laney's feet, and yanked it as hard as I could. With a screech, she lost her balance and hit the hard wooden floor. Crawling forward on my elbows, I hauled myself out from under the bed and gasped as I felt her grab a fistful of my hair. I twisted around and landed a punch somewhere on her stomach, and she abruptly let go.

I steeled myself as she launched herself at me, knocking me to the floor, her blue eyes wild with rage. Her hands closed around my neck, and though I tried to push her off me, fury had made her ridiculously strong. I felt her dig her long fingernails into my neck as I struggled to wrench free of her grip. I couldn't breathe. My vision was quickly being replaced by a gray haze. Any second now, everything would go black.

Suddenly there was a tremendous crash, and I felt a shower of glass rain down from above. Laney's hands went slack, she fell heavily on top of me, blood dripping down her forehead. And then I felt a strong hand pull me to my feet, and Rhodes was standing next to me, his lean body shaking with anger. In his left hand was a clear handle, all that remained of the heavy glass pitcher that had stood on the table.

He dropped the handle, and it broke into shards as it hit the floor. "Oh, God," he said, breathing hard. "All you all right, Bridges?"

I nodded numbly, staring at him. He touched my neck lightly, experimentally, and I winced in pain as he pulled a small fragment of an acrylic nail from my skin. My eyes widened as I looked at it. "What a whackjob," I said, my voice sounding strained and hoarse.

Rhodes nodded, still breathing heavily. I looked at him again, my eyes failing at first to register what I was seeing. Rhodes was standing, talking normally. Strength had returned to his limbs. What the hell?

"Rhodes?" I said hesitantly. "What's going on? I thought..." I swallowed. "I thought you were dying."

He smiled gently and shook his head. "No, Bridges, I'm not dying," he said reassuringly. He reached up and brushed my hair out of my face. "It was only an act. I'm fine."

With an overwhelming rush of relief, I leaned into him, and he wrapped his arms around me, holding me tightly against him. He buried his face in my hair, and I pressed my ear to his chest, just to feel his precious heartbeat. My relief was so great that I thought my legs would give out. Rhodes wasn't dying. It was only an act. He was fine. Everything would be all right. I kept repeating those words in my head, like a mantra: Rhodes wasn't dying, he was fine.

Wait a minute.

"Oh, Bridges, I love you so much," Rhodes whispered in my ear.

With a savage shove, I pushed him roughly onto the floor.

----

"Yep, that's her, all right," said Agent Edward Solomon, folding his plump arms as he stood over the unconscious form of Gislaine LeFavre. We stood in the middle of the street, bundled in coats, surrounded by a swarm of police cruisers, an ambulance, and the FBI agent's unmarked black BMW. The flashing lights on the police cars painted the entire area alternating red-and-blue glow.

Laney LeFavre lay in a hospital stretcher at the moment, but as soon as she was back to her normal, crazy-ass self again, she would be relocated to a jail cell, to await charges. Her head was swathed in a blood-stained bandage, and her face was a sickly yellow. Just looking at her, nobody would be able to tell what a psycho she was.

"Inherited her old man's murderous tendencies, I guess," Solomon remarked, shaking his head. "But she's a clever one. I don't know how we could have traced Wernick's death to her if it hadn't been for you two."

I breathed in sharply through my teeth as the medic that was tending my wounds dabbed me with an antiseptic. Beside me, clean-shaven and dressed in a fresh suit, Rhodes put a gentle hand on my shoulder. I shook it off angrily.

"So, how did you do it, Rhodes?" Solomon asked, after watching our little exchange with a raised eyebrow. "How did you make everyone, including your best buddy, think that you had one foot in the grave?"

"Yes, tell us, Rhodes," I put in acidly. "We're all _dying_ to know."

Rhodes darted an uncomfortable glance at me, then cleared his throat. "Well, Solomon, I suppose when you come right down to it, it was really all about the acting. Most symptoms of any illness can be easily reproduced by acting: the chills, the physical weakness, the delirium. The retching sounds I had to make, however unpleasant, were also relatively simple; I just had to make sure Bridges did not accompany me inside the bathroom. The rest were all minor details."

"Yeah, but I saw you, kid," the agent persisted. "You really looked like hell. Your hands were freezing, and your head was burning up. How'd you manage to do that?"

"Ah, that was a little harder to manage," said Rhodes, warming to the subject. "I don't know if you're very familiar with the practices of the Tibetan monks." Solomon's face showed that he was clearly not. "Well, you see, they go on yearly pilgrimages across the Himalayan Mountains, and to survive in the blistering cold, they had to develop a special form of meditation. It forces one's body heat to leave its extremeties - the hands and feet - and concentrate in its most vital parts, namely the head and the chest. It lasts a considerably long time."

"And you used this... form of meditation?" Solomon asked, amazed.

"Yes. It helped greatly in providing the illusion that I had a fever. Although," he added, his gaze focused on me, "the heat became almost unbearable at times, especially when I was... in _close_ proximity with another person."

At this both of Solomon's eyebrows shot up.

"At any rate," Rhodes continued quickly, before the agent had a chance to question on this particular statement, "the other detail - the fevered eyes, that is - I must admit, I borrowed that one from a Sherlock Holmes story that Bridges made me read once. A few drops of belladonna in the eyes can work wonders. It dilates the pupil, causes a most pleasing effect. Unfortunately, it also leaves the eyes extremely sensitive to light."

"And all the weight you lost?" Solomon squeezed one of the young detective's scrawny arms. "I suppose you've been starving yourself all this time?"

"Well, yes, actually," he replied. "Except, of course, for the meals Bridges prepared for me." He placed a hand on his meager stomach. "What I wouldn't give for some of her homemade chow mein right now."

_Keep wishing, buddy,_ I thought angrily.

Solomon shook his head in astonishment. "I just don't understand it," he said. "How did you know the woman would try to poison you?"

"Poison is a woman's weapon," said Rhodes. "I had already read about Donald Wernick in the obituaries three weeks ago. Among other things, it mentioned his 'battle with a strange illness'. Poison seemed to explain his symptoms, and when I went through a mental list of potential suspects, Laney LeFavre seemed immediately the most likely. And then I received a package of cookies in the mail, sent by a so-called grateful client. My guard was up instantly, and I had them analyzed for toxins. The results showed that the poison found in them was either poinsettia or deadly nightshade. Then of course, after Laney so conveniently ran into me, my suspicions proved correct."

Suddenly Solomon clapped him on the shoulder. "Well, that was some great work, kid," he told him, pumping his hand in congratulation. "I can't believe you pulled off something this big, but then again, I can't say I'm surprised."

"Thank you, Solomon," Rhodes replied with an uncharacteristically sheepish grin. "I appreciate it."

The agent turned to the uniformed policemen as the medics lifted Laney's stretcher into the ambulance. "Well, boys?" he said with a wicked smile. "What say we take this girl somewhere where she'll be taken _real_ good care of?" He winked at Rhodes and me. "See you, brats."

He lowered his pudgy frame into his BMW, flicking on a blinking red light on his dashboard. He sped off down the street, followed by a horde of police cars, and I was left alone on the sidewalk with my partner, best friend, and true love.

And how I hated him.

----

A/N: Here are my thoughts, if anyone cares. Did anyone else think that Watson might have been a little bit hurt that Holmes had pretended he was dying, forbade the doctor from treating him, _insulted_ his skills as a physician, all to discover that Holmes had been faking the whole time? I would not have blamed Watson if he had been angry. Especially since the detective had not deigned to take Watson into his confidence, implying that he didn't trust him. That was probably the most insensitive thing I can recall Holmes ever having done. I'm sure he didn't _mean_ to be insensitive, but that's how it came across to me. And this is why Bridges is so furious, if anyone needed an explanation. You'll find out more in the next chapter. In the meantime, review please!

-W.


	8. A Long Tale

A/N: Oh, man. Last chapter. Hey, I warned you it would only be eight chapters! At least, I think I did. Anyway. Here we go. Before we get started, I want to dedicate this chapter - no, this whole _story_ - to everyone who stuck with this, and put up with me during the long waits. I know you were probably furious with me for taking so long, and I understand completely. I would be mad, too. But that's why I love you all! You guys are so _good_ and _loyal_, and probably the main reason I didn't give up on this story is because you didn't give up on _me_. So thank you.

_Ohh_, before I forget, if you have Coldplay's album, "A Rush of Blood to the Head", I strongly suggest you listen to "The Scientist" while you're reading this. I've put some of the lyrics below, and it really fits perfectly, if you look at it from Rhodes' point of view. Anyway, yeah. Stay tuned for my Author's Note at the bottom.

Disclaimer: For the last frickin' time, "Down the Rabbit Hole" belongs to me; "The Dying Detective" belongs to Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. So none of the _good_ ideas I had for this story were _my_ ideas.

----

Down the Rabbit Hole

a modern Sherlock Holmes fanfiction

by Wakizashi

Chapter Eight: A Long Tale

----

Come up to meet you, tell you I'm sorry

You don't know how lovely you are

I had to find you, tell you I need you

Tell you I set you apart

Tell me your secrets, and ask me your questions

Oh, let's go back to the start

- Coldplay, "The Scientist"

----

The squad of cars roared off down the street, sirens wailing. Though the street was empty of pedestrians, a taxi rushed by now and then; it was New Year's Eve, I kept having to remind myself, and everyone had places to go, people to get drunk with. The year certainly had gone by quickly.

Rhodes' shoulders sagged visibly. "Thank God all that's over with," he muttered, shoving his hands in his trouser pockets. "Come on, Bridges, let's go inside and get something to eat. I'm famished."

He went to open the gate to the courtyard, but I stood perfectly still. "Bridges?" he said again. "Don't stand out here, you'll catch a cold. Come on inside."

I still gave no reply, still didn't move.

Rhodes came up behind me and took hold of my hand. "Baby, what's wrong?" he asked gently.

"Oh, don't you 'baby' me, you big phony," I said furiously, yanking my hand from his grasp.

His green eyes widened in surprise. "Bridges?"

"Why did you make me think you were dying?" I demanded. "Why didn't you _tell_ me it was all an act to convince Laney? For God's sake, you made me sick to death worrying about you!"

"Please, Bridges, don't be angry with me," he replied beseechingly. "I had to make everyone believe that I was seriously ill; _everyone_, including you. If I had let you in on it, your concern wouldn't have been genuine, and Laney would have seen right through it. It made me absolutely miserable, Bridges, seeing you so worried, but I just _couldn't_ tell you."

I scoffed in disgust. "Yeah, right. Miserable." He opened his mouth to protest, but I kept going. "All this time, you were lying to me. And I believed you. God, I _believed_ you! And what about all that talk about how you loved me, how you needed me more than anyone else in the world? I suppose those were all lies, too?"

At this Rhodes' mouth dropped open. "No! No, Bridges, I wasn't lying! It was the truth, every word of it!"

"Uh-huh," I said sarcastically. Suddenly I spun on him. "Oh my God, the massage! Now it all makes sense! You faked muscle cramps just to make me give you a massage. Boy, you must have a lot of nerve. Oh, and let's not forget those so-called 'chills'." I mimed quotation marks in his face. "I guess your bed was getting a little too lonely, and you needed some company."

Rhodes shook his head desperately. "No, Bridges, you... you don't understand--"

"Oh, I understand, all right, Rhodes," I interrupted bitterly. "I understand that you're a _horndog_. I understand that you're a liar, and a scheming, manipulative fraud. I understand that--"

"Bridges, _please_," he pleaded, resting his hand on my shoulder.

"Oh, don't _touch_ me, Rhodes!" I shouted, my voice echoing in the dark street. My eyes were welling up with tears.

Slowly, his hand slid from my shoulder and fell back down to his side. A long silence settled between us.

Finally he took a deep breath. "Bridges... I don't blame you for being upset," he said. "But I never meant to hurt you."

"Wow, where have I heard _that_ before?" I heard myself say bitterly. "Christmas day comes to mind." My voice donned a facsimile of Rhodes's Southern accent. "'I would never deliberately hurt you, Bridges. If I did, I would want to die.' Sound familiar, Rhodes?"

He dropped his gaze to his feet. "I know," he said quietly. "I know I said that, and I'm ashamed. I'm... more than ashamed, I'm mortified, _disgusted_ at myself. But you have to understand, Bridges, I was protecting you. Laney was vengeful and unstable, yes, but she was also keenly observant. If she had even the slightest suspicion that my illness wasn't real, and that you _knew_ it wasn't real, she would come after you, too. And I refused to allow anything to happen to you."

I wrapped my arms around myself, trying to fight off the cold. "Well, I'm sorry, Rhodes, but I don't think Laney could possibly have hurt me as much as you did."

"Oh, Bridges..." Rhodes took my hands and rubbed them between his. "I was an idiot, a complete... jackass." He actually frowned at his own coarse language. "And I'll be the first one to admit it. But I truly didn't mean to hurt you. I _love_ you." He blinked back tears of his own. "You've got to believe me, Bridges."

How I wanted to believe him. He seemed so sincere, and he was telling me everything I wanted to hear. But that was precisely the problem. I had _believed_ him all this time. I had believed when he was in the bathroom, making those awful retching sounds. I had believed when his entire body was wracked with shivers. I had believed when he was lying next to me in bed, ranting about how he wished there could have been more time for us.

I had believed he was dying. And he had been lying to me the whole time.

I didn't know him anymore.

"I wish I could," I said in a low voice, pulling my hands slowly out of his grasp. "Oh, I wish to God I could, Rhodes. But I just can't." His eyes slid shut as he released a shaky sigh, but at this point nothing could have moved me. "How can I believe anything you say anymore, Rhodes?" I demanded. "Everything from the beginning was a lie! Everything!"

"I know, I _know_, Bridges!" he exclaimed in frustration, throwing up his hands. "I _know_ I lied to you, and I _know_ I hurt you! But God, what can I say or do for you to understand how sorry I am? If I had known it would cause you this much pain--"

"You would've done it anyway!" I shot back at him, my fists clenched at my sides. "I know you better than you think, Rhodes, so _please_ do not give me any of that garbage right now, okay? We both know you wouldn't have done anything differently even if you'd known how I would react." I had to blink rapidly to clear my vision. "And that's what hurts the most. You don't care how I feel at all."

Rhodes shook his head helplessly. "That's not true," he said in a broken whisper.

I sighed. "No, you're right. That's not completely fair." He looked up at me hopefully. "Maybe you _do_ feel bad about hurting me, somewhere in the back of your mind. But it doesn't stop you from doing it. You just keep on taking advantage of me." I let out an ironic laugh, and it sounded harsh in my ears. "You know, I really can't blame you. I bring it on myself."

"Bridges..."

"That's really what our relationship is, isn't it?" I continued. "You take advantage of me, I get angry. You apologize, and I forgive you. Then it starts all over again." My voice, which I had been trying to control the entire time, finally broke on the last word. "Well, you know what, Rhodes? It's pathetic. And it's painful. And I can't..." I attempted to hold back a sob, and failed. "I can't live this way anymore."

It took a few moments for recognition to show on Rhodes's haggard face. "What do you mean?" he croaked.

Feeling a tear trace down my cheek, I shook my head. "I'm sorry, Rhodes," I said tightly. A large lump formed in my throat, and I had to swallow it down. "I'm sorry, but I just can't see you anymore."

"No," he choked out, clutching at me desperately. "No, please, baby, you don't mean that--"

I reached out and gently extricated myself from his grip.

I placed my hand on the side of his face, lifted it up to look at me.

I gazed into his eyes, moist and bloodshot and filled with anguish. "Goodbye, Rhodes," I said softly.

Turning away from him, I began walking down the sidewalk, my arm raised to hail a taxi.

"Bridges, please, come back!" Rhodes cried out hoarsely. "Bridges! _You said you'd never leave me!_"

A cab pulled up to the curb. I climbed inside and shut the door, and it sped me away.

----

Sobbing quietly to myself, I watched the street lamps whip past the windows as the taxi bore me down the steep hills of San Francisco toward the bay. I could hardly believe I had done it; I had actually left Rhodes. It was the hardest thing I had ever done in my life. I felt like my heart had been ripped out.

But I had to do it. He had given me no choice. How could I have stayed with him, when I didn't even trust him? Our whole relationship would have been a sham. It already _was_ a sham.

"Hey, little lady!"

My head shot up, and I realized the taxi driver was speaking to me. "Y-yes?" I said shakily.

"What's wrong?" he asked. "Why're you crying?"

_Oh Lord,_ I thought, trying unconscously to melt into the seat. _Just what I need. A nosey cab driver._ "It's nothing," I told him. "I didn't mean to bother you."

He laughed. "Bother? Nothing bothers me." Then he glared at me through the rear view mirror, suddenly stern. "But I don't pick up sad girls who don't tell me why they're crying. So spill, or I dump you off right here."

I quirked an eyebrow doubtfully. "You'd really do that?"

"Wouldn't be the first time," he replied with a casual shrug. I worried that I had been kidnapped by some nutcase; the perfect end to the worst day of my life. Then he laughed again. "Nah, I'm just pullin' your chain," he said. "So? You gonna tell me what's wrong?"

"I don't know why I should," I said, getting irritated. "I don't even know you."

"Yeah, okay." There was a short pause. "Then can I make a guess?"

I sighed heavily and sank back against the seat. "Sure, knock yourself out."

"I will. Since I got your permission." The driver looked at me again through the rear view mirror. "I'd say it's probably got something to do with that tall, skinny guy you were standin' next to back up the hill. Am I right?"

"Maybe," I replied guardedly.

"Thought so." He had a pair of unexpectedly penetrating dark eyes. "So I'd say that means you probably got into an argument, and since you're the one who left, it was probably his fault." I didn't reply, but he knew his line of reasoning was correct. "And since you seem so upset, you're probably in love with the guy. But since you're staring dagger-eyes into me, you probably don't want to admit it."

Surprised, I quickly shifted my gaze out the window.

"And since the guy seemed so broken up when you left him," he continued, braking violently at an intersection, "he's probably really sorry he hurt you. So seeing as how he probably loves you, too, you should probably just forgive him. You think?"

_That was scary,_ I thought to myself. Forcing a breath out through my nostrils, I met the driver's gaze. "Well, seeing as how you've managed to describe my situation perfectly," I said dryly, "I should probably just smile and nod." Then I sighed. "But it's not that simple."

He shrugged. "Nothin' is ever simple, girlie. 'Specially not something like love."

Unable to think of a reply, I merely continued staring out the window. We had reached Fisherman's Wharf, and I noticed large crowds of people gathering on the sidewalks, bundled in warm clothes, apparently waiting for something. Then I remembered. It was almost midnight on New Year's Eve. The fireworks would be starting soon; those bright blossoms of light that ignited the sky with color, then floated down to the ground in fading streaks. I checked my watch: fifteen minutes till midnight.

"Could you drop me off here?" I asked.

"Sure thing."

The taxi slowed to a halt. I leaned forward and handed my fare to the cab driver. "You know," I said at a sudden thought, "you'd make a pretty good detective."

"Nah," he said, shaking his head. "Tips aren't as good." He grinned. "Have a happy New Year."

"You, too," I replied, and climbed out of the car. I headed up Pier 39, hoping the view of the fireworks would be better there. I also wondered if all the people would succeed in driving the sea lions away, but the big, barking loiterers probably weren't intimidated by anything anymore.

I continued walking down the Pier to the very end, hearing the bark of the sea lions every now and then to my left. It was so cold I could see my breath, coming out in little puffs. I wrapped my coat tighter around myself. The fog, ever-present in San Francisco, was not too bad for once, and I didn't think it would interfere with the display.

I looked around at the other people that had gathered to wait. A few families, but mostly couples, huddled together for warmth. I stifled a sigh; I had tried hard this time, but it looked as if I would be alone, again, on New Year's. What a perfect way to end the worst day of my life. _Sorry to disappoint you, Dad,_ I thought painfully.

"_Bridges!_"

My heart gave a lurch as I turned around. Rhodes was fighting his way through the crowds toward me. I cursed angrily under my breath. Had he been following me this whole time?

"Bridges," he said breathlessly as he reached me. "Thank God I found you."

I clenched my fists in frustration. "Damn it, Rhodes, how did you know I was here?" I demanded.

Rhodes smiled sweetly, tenderly at me. "Because I know you, Bridges," he said softly, taking my hand in his. Despite my best efforts, I found myself unable to pull it out of his grasp. "I knew exactly where you'd be. I knew you would remember that it's New Year's Eve. I knew you would want to see the fireworks, because you love bright colors. And I knew you would come down to the Pier, because you would want to get the best view, and because you like to come hear the sea lions."

I found myself blinking back tears, but I didn't want to give in. "Rhodes..."

"I know you so well, Bridges. I know that you're angry with me, and you don't want to forgive me. And I know that you feel like you can't trust me, but you _can_." He brought my hand up to his face and kissed it, and I became aware that many of the people on the Pier were watching us. "I promise that you will always be able to trust me."

Why did he have to make this so difficult? "Rhodes," I told him wearily, "your promises mean nothing to me. Please, just leave me alone."

"No!" he exclaimed adamantly, causing me, along with several others, to jump. "No, I will not leave you alone!" I stared at him, stunned, and he returned my gaze with pleading eyes. "I will not let you walk out of my life like this, Nadia Bridges," he said unsteadily, holding onto my hand like a lifeline. "No matter what happens to us, I will never let you go. You're the most important thing in my life; you _are_ my life. And I'm not about to give you up, not ever."

The earnestness of Rhodes' demeanor moved me deeply. But, I had to remind myself, I couldn't allow his apparent sincerity to cloud my judgment. They were just words, after all.

"Bridges, please listen to me. Please?" He squeezed my hand, and I sighed and waited. "You have every reason to hate me. I lied to you, I took advantage of you, and I put you through unnecessary pain."

"Yeah, that about sums it up," I said bluntly.

"And right now, you're very likely wondering if I'm telling the truth, or if it's merely more lies."

I blew out an impatient breath. "You know, Rhodes, you're not improving my opinion of you right now."

"And maybe," he continued, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand, "maybe there's nothing I can say or do to make you believe how truly sorry I am. But you _can't_ hate me, Bridges. If... if I knew you hated me, it would kill me."

I looked down at the ground to avoid those heartwrenching eyes. "I don't hate you, Rhodes," I said quietly. "You saved my life. I just..." I blinked rapidly to clear my vision. "I don't know if I can ever trust you again. I have no guarantee that you won't hurt me."

His hand gently lifted my head up, forcing me to meet his eyes. They were full of love and remorse and desperation. "Don't forget, Bridges, that you saved my life, too. You are the sole reason why I am alive. What I told you tonight, about how I was going to kill myself, was all true. If I hadn't met you..." He trailed off, clearly unwilling to pursue that course of thought to its end.

"I had time to think," he said, "while I was driving here. I thought about what you said, about... about how I take advantage of you. And you're right. And I hate myself for it." His breath hitched in his throat. "But I honestly can't afford to lose your trust, ever again. I would lose you. And I can't live without you. We both know I can't."

Despite my anger, I felt myself wanting to forgive him, wanting to trust him. If he did hurt me a second time, I would leave him for good, and he knew it. He was right; he couldn't afford to blow it again.

"Do you give me your _word_," I asked, my voice tremulous, "your word as a _partner_, that no matter what the circumstances are, you will never lie to me, or take advantage of me, ever again?"

In response, Rhodes put his hand to my cheek and caressed it slowly. "You have my word," he promised. "But more importantly, you have my life."

Somehow, I knew he was telling the truth. I thought that I would never be able to believe him again, but I was wrong. His beautiful green eyes - even when they were altered by eye drops - had never succeeded in lying to me. I had been able to see through those windows to his true feelings all along: his guilt, his longing, his sorrow. As long as he had eyes, he would never be able to hide from me.

Slowly, I reached up and covered his hand with mine. A spark of hope lit up his eyes.

"I suppose, after everything we've been through," I said, running my fingertips between his knuckles, the way he did so often to mine, "it would be a shame to let it end like this."

The spark abruptly ignited into a flame. "So you... you forgive me?" he whispered, almost afraid to believe it.

"You owe me, Rhodes," I replied, giving him a watery smile. "You owe me big time."

"Ohh, thank God," he burst out, pulling me into his embrace. He hugged me tightly; a little _too_ tightly, actually, but I didn't mind. Although he didn't know it, if we had parted forever, and never seen each other again, it would have probably killed me, too. Maybe someday I would tell him. But not tonight.

"I love you," he murmured, nuzzling my hair.

I smiled and closed my eyes. "I love you."

"Good, because I was waiting for you to shove me on the ground again."

I laughed, against my will. God, he had to throw _that_ in my face. I squeezed Rhodes back just as tightly, and he threaded his long fingers through my hair with a sigh of deep contentment.

Suddenly I was aware of a chorus of "Awww"s around us, and I remembered we weren't alone. "That's so sweet," somebody said.

I laughed again, embarrassed, burying my face in the lapels of Rhodes' coat. Apparently we were quite the spectacle.

And then the countdown began, and I reluctantly let go of him with one hand and consulted my watch. It was seconds away from midnight. Quickly, I turned toward the bay, leaning back against Rhodes' chest. He wrapped his arms around my waist and rested his chin on my shoulder, giving me a peck on the cheek. I reached up and ruffled his hair. Together, we joined in the countdown to the end of a long tale. Or maybe it was just the beginning.

"Five! Four! Three! Two! One!"

With the collective shout of "Happy New Year!" the crowd burst into deafening applause. Fireworks of every color rocketed into the sky, screeching and crackling all the way. With an even louder bang, they burst into giant blossoms of orange and gold, or sparkling blue and purple showers that drifted lazily back toward earth, reflecting off the black water below.

All around us, people were kissing. The sober joined with the not-so-sober in a rousingly unharmonious rendition of "Auld Lang Syne", and the sound of champagne glasses clinking together reached my ears from all sides.

Smiling in spite of the day's events, I turned toward my partner. "Another promising new year to look forward to, eh, Rhodes?" I said with good-natured sarcasm, craning my neck to meet his gaze.

In contrast with the shining faces around us, Rhodes wore an expression of the most absolute purest desire. Placing his hand on the side of my neck, he leaned forward and kissed me with unrestrained passion.

My father and Alma just won a bet tonight.

My eyes widened at first, shocked by the intensity of the kiss. And then something clicked in my brain: kiss him back, you idiot! I closed my eyes and pressed my body against his, my fingers raking through his shaggy black hair. His thumb slid down the line of my throat, while his other hand slowly massaged my lower back. It was our first kiss, and if it was any indication of how Rhodes always kissed, it definitely would not be the last.

A shiver coursed through me as I felt Rhodes take my bottom lip in his mouth and gnaw on it. His hands dropped to my hips and pulled me still closer, with an urgent hunger I hardly thought him capable of. Finally, when I thought I would black out from lack of oxygen, I broke away, gasping for air. My face felt like it was on fire.

Breathing hard, Rhodes put his forehead to mine, his eyes darkened to a primal forest green.

"Happy New Year," he said huskily.

----

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A/N: Hell _yes_. Ugh, God, finally. That was for all you faithful readers who have ben waiting a fricking eternity for them to kiss. And I am very pleased with the way it turned out. Not just the kiss, but the whole story, really. It was hard writing, and almost drove me crazy at times, but I really think it's the best thing I've written. I know, I always say that when I'm done with a story, but this time it's true. Or maybe my writing skills are just improving. (Ha!) Either way, I'm happy with the finished product, and I hope you enjoyed it, too.

As for the next story, I thought I might get a little feedback from you. Some people said it would be a good idea to write it from Rhodes's point of you, but others disagreed, making the very good argument that that would take the mystery out of him, which I wouldn't want. I'm inclined to think that third-person omniscient is the safest bet. But I want your input! So I'm taking a poll: who wants the story to be told by Bridges? Who wants it to be told by Rhodes? And who wants it to be written in third-person?

So those are my terms. Please review and tell me what you thought of this, my final chapter, while you're here, and I will greatly appreciate it. Love you, fellow hounds!

-Wakizashi


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